Love is Blue
by Jynxiii
Summary: I hate Morgead Blackthorn, I hate him, I hate him... but I think I'm falling in love with him. The complication? He's my teacher! Add in a jealous ex and a long-hidden family secret, and you've got yourself one difficult life. AH, AU. Includes sneak peek at sequel!
1. Chapter 1

**I hate Morgead Blackthorn, I hate him, I hate him... but I think I'm falling in love with him. The complication? He's my teacher! Add in a jealous ex and a long-hidden family secret, and you've got yourself one difficult life. AH, AU.**

**I don't own Night World, but I own this story line. And myself (I decided to put myself as a minor recurring character in here). **

**Chapter 1**

"Homework?"

"Done."

Okay. Maybe it wasn't. But in what parallel universe would I need to know about quadratic and linear simultaneous equations? It wasn't as if I couldn't _do_ it, the fact that my IQ was probably higher than Einstein's meant that I caught on quickly. Most lessons were spent staring out of the window. Well, except for English. That was usually spent staring at the teacher.

Morgead Blackthorn. Looked way too young to be a teacher, and was the most gorgeous thing in the world. And I'm not prone to exaggeration. Obviously.

But, of course, every single girl is crazily in love with him. And because I'm not exactly popular, he never really pays that much attention to me. Teachers _love_ the populars. Drives me up the wall. He lets them get away with anything.

And in the English lesson the next day, that was displayed as prominently as ever.

"Get your feet _off_ the table, Jezebel. And stop rocking back on your chair! You'll crack your head open."

I laugh. Might as well have some fun with it. "Oh, well people _really_ would miss me, wouldn't they?" I look around to see most of the populars rocking back on their chairs. "And you're not telling _them_ to stop because no-one would care if _they_ cracked their heads open." I gesture to the rows of plastic, painted people, and they glare at me in unison. I smirk. Stupid sheep.

The girl sitting next to me – Julie or something – snickers. Blackthorn closes his eyes and turns away. "Detention," is the only word he says.

He says that to me more than any other word.

"Can't wait," I muttered sarcastically. He shoots me an annoyed look and I smile innocently. "What were we supposed to do?" I ask the girl next to me. I sneak a glance at her book to check her name. Julia. Ah, so close.

"Umm... something to do with books?"

We exchange a blank glance.

"But I suppose that's a given," she continues. "I'm not sure... Dominika!" she whispers over her shoulder to a girl behind us. "What are we supposed to be doing?"

"You think I pay attention to what he _says_?"

Julia smirks. "No. I sure as heck don't. And to think that I want to do this damn subject at uni."

We still don't know what we're meant to be doing at the end of the lesson, but oh well. Maths now. Time to bluff my way out of not doing the work.

Luckily (or not luckily, depending on the situation) I am pretty sure that Mr Randall has a slight crush on me. Gross, I know, but it is common knowledge that he's a pervert. It's just that the other teachers don't see it. They never do. I sit in the chair nearest to the door and make sure I smile sweetly at him as he comes in, standing up respectfully (yes, we have to stand up when a teacher comes in. Bloody stupid, it is).

Thankfully it works, and he doesn't give me a detention for not doing the homework. And therefore I don't have two detentions on my first day back after half term.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. I don't exactly have friends at school to make it interesting and every day seems to be the same as the last. It isn't long before I'm opening the door, shouting a quick hello to my parents, and rushing upstairs to my room to get changed for band practice.

My band is my true love. We're not exactly amazing, but interest has been building and we're starting to get gigs every fortnight or so. It had been my dream from a young age to be the girl singer in a boy band, and that actually worked out pretty well. I sing, and sometimes play piano, whilst Val is on drums, Pierce is on bass and Hugh is on guitar.

It was only a few weeks until my parents would buy me a motorbike, so I have to cycle there (which I find really embarrassing. Bikes are either for kids or strange people who put their shopping in the little basket at the front). 'There' being Val's garage. He moved out about a year ago and so we practiced at his. My parents didn't exactly enjoy my music, and Hugh and Pierce don't have a garage.

I don't bother knocking when I get there, just get the key which is hidden under the plant pot and let myself in, shouting, "I'm here!" as I close the door behind me.

I'm greeted by a very excitable 10 year old girl, Hugh's sister Thistle, who jumps up and hugs me, yelling "Jez!" I laugh at her and pick out some leaves from her fine blonde hair.

"Did you go off into the woods again?"

She grins angelically at me. But don't let that fool you. She can be a right little demon when she wants to. "You know I love the woods."

"Climbed a tree, didn't you?"

"Yep. Twenty metres high! I only stopped because Hugh threatened to call mum." She pouts. "That wasn't fair. But come on. The rest of them are already here."

She drags me into the garage, where the rest of my dysfunctional, but loveable band was setting up, including Val's girlfriend, Raven.

"Woo, Jez finally made it!" Val whoops, hitting the cymbal.

I do a little twirl. "Yes, you can stop your crying, for the ruler of this band is finally here!"

"_Who_ keeps the beat?"

"You do. But who would come watch some random dude banging some drums? They come for _me_," I say.

We have this argument often, which means that the others are already rolling their eyes and moving towards their instruments to tune up. I grin at Val before starting to warm up my voice.

I'd always enjoyed singing, and I definitely wasn't bad at it, though I was no proficient.

The practice went quickly, of course, and before I knew it we were switching off the microphones and amps, and I had to go home. And do homework. Of course.

So instead I took the long route back, which included quite a few sharp descents. This was the only time I enjoyed riding my bike.

Due to the extended route, it was already dark when I pulled up in the driveway and had to wrestle the stupid bike into the shed. I could see the light coming from the living room and sighed. Best not to let my parents see me, so I drop down in a crouch and open the back door silently to enter the kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

I jump before rolling my eyes. Claire. She was here _way_ more than I wanted her to be, and it seemed like the only reason she came over was to pick at my non-existent *cough* faults. I straighten and fix her with a glare.

"No, seriously. Why were you walking like that? You'll hurt your back."

See what I mean? Wrapping up everything in nice words, when she really wants to say something along the lines of, 'You're an idiot! –walk properly!'

"I thought I was going to be alone. What are you doing here anyway?" I say, getting an apple from the fruit bowl.

"Came to see my family."

I make a big show of looking around. "Where are they then?"

"You're family, aren't you?"

Urgh. I turn away, muttering, "Wish we weren't," as I walk towards the stairs. I ignore her sigh and duck down again.

"Jezebel!"

Oh crap. Busted. I stand up swiftly, summon my brightest smile. "Yes, daddy?"

He frowns at me. "Don't 'daddy' me."

"Why not? You _are_ my daddy, aren't you?"

"You didn't call again, Jez."

I drop my head. "It's just that we have a gig coming up."

"And you're putting the band before school."

I widen my eyes at him, which are precisely the same as my mother's and say, "But that's only for now. I'm still on track. I promise! I got full marks in some maths stuff today."

"And how about science?"

I can't help but roll my eyes. Just because he lectures biochemistry at some random university, he thinks I should be some amazing scientist. Really not my kind of thing.

"Jezebel. Science is important!"

I sigh and duck my head again. "I'm keeping on top of it."

"And what about English?" This from mum. _She_ believes I should be some kind of whizz at English just because she happens to be an author.

I give a short laugh. "Not so much. You know Blackthorn hates me. Why don't you ever ask me how my music lessons are going?"

"Because you're a natural, and there's not that much chance that you will make it enough to pay for bills."

I put my hand against my throat and gasp dramatically. "Your underconfidence in me astounds me to the _core_."

"I don't think '_underconfidence_' is a word."

"It is in my world!" I retort childishly before rushing upstairs.

I spend quite a while debating on whether I should do what I want (guitar) or what I should (revision). My obedient streak wins out, finally, and I switch on my computer whilst looking through some harder maths stuff.

Like always, I leave my English homework for last. It's some essay on Of Mice and Men, and I write the bare minimum. It still takes me about an hour, though, and it's way past 11 when I finally can go to bed.

**I have actually completely finished this story (in 8 days. It's a record), so I'll be updating every Tuesday without fail to give people a chance to review (twenty weeks! Or twenty-one if I do the epilogue). And DO review, otherwise I'll discontinue it and just keep it for myself.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Replies to reviews:**

**You would never know me anyway – I agree with you. Morgy would never become a teacher, I just wanted to post this story somewhere where I would actually get reviews. And I also agree with you on the teacher-student relationship thing. Freaks me out, which is why I made sure that Morgead was the youngest he could be (22). I just like exploring things like that through writing. Thanks for the review :)**

**DelalTheEpicNinjaTurtle – I've actually already completed this story, but I'm thinking of a 3-4 shot prequel (no promises, though), so I'll probably do that in third person. Thanks for the review :)**

**I don't own Night World.**

**Chapter 2**

I'm _mega_ excited when I wake up the next day for my detention with Blackthorn (note the sarcasm). In fact, I'm so excited that I swear for about a minute straight. It's actually fascinating how inventive I can be when suitably inspired.

Anyway, I drag myself out of my best friend (my bed) and stumble downstairs, still half dead, but wake up pretty darn fast when I see Claire sitting at the table, looking perfect and sipping a mug of something-or-rather. "What are you still doing here?"

"I slept round. Guess you didn't notice." She gives me a disparaging look.

Oh great. If she slept round, it meant that she would give me a lift. And it was snowing outside, so there was no way I was walking. It really doesn't pay to get up for school.

I pull a face at her and get a bowl of cereal. She watches me with a sour expression. "Why don't you ever put milk on your cereal?"

"Don't feel like it."

"Huh," she says under her breath. I ignore her and finish as quickly as I can before bolting back upstairs to try and sort out my hair.

It's actually not too bad today. I just have to clip back a couple of wayward strands and I don't look like I've dragged my hair through a bush backwards, as my lovely, dear father often says.

The drive to school is awkward as ever, with Claire trying to start up a conversation or two, but as they're all about school, I put a stop to them quickly. The relief is evident on her face when the torture finishes and she goes to her own form room as I make my way to mine.

My form are known as the 'rejects'. Always makes everyone feel so light and fluffy with happiness when they hear that. I swing open the door, and as always there's a massive argument going on in the corner (I give them two minutes before they dive for the chairs, or knives that they probably have stuffed in their trousers) and some girls are flirting outrageously with the resident 'hottie', who also happens to be the biggest man-whore Ipswich has ever seen. I collapse onto my chair and close my eyes, ignoring the raucous laughter coming from the other group, the ones that are obsessed with comics and anything which explodes.

Nothing calms down when the teacher comes in (if anything, it gets louder) and he spends a couple of minutes struggling to do the register, and escapes as soon as he can, rubbing his forehead. He does that often.

I drag myself out of the stupid chair and scuff my feet on the way to the door. Chemistry first; what fun.

"Jez!"

I'm surprised as a voice calls out my name – no-one ever actually talks to me here – and turn to see the man-whore. "Hi, Matt," I say, feigning politeness. Well, I wasn't exactly going to call him man-whore to his face, was I?

He gives me an easy smile, and I try not to shudder. "I wanted to ask you something."

I can't help the sigh, and I cross my arms. "Go on, then," I say, already quite bored.

"Did you want to have dinner tonight?"

My breath comes out in a huff, and I glare at him automatically. "Can't. I've got detention."

"How about tomorrow?"

"Band practice," I say. "I've got to go, Matt. I don't want to be late." I escape, relieved about stepping around that minefield. I practically run all the way to the lab.

Oh, an experiment. This day was just fabulous (sarcasm, again). Most people loved doing experiments, but I always hated them. Just a mixture of the goggles and having to actually _get up_ and _move around_... I don't know. It really didn't suit me.

Not that I'm _lazy_, but... okay. Maybe I am a bit lazy. But so is every single teenager on this godforsaken island.

And afterwards, I have music, the only lesson I look forward to. I tend to stick to the piano, and as the only piano I can use is in a tiny practice room the other side of the Performing Arts block, and I'm working alone on my term project, I'm always alone in the room. I prefer it that way. I actually spend most of my time perfecting the set for the gig we have on Saturday instead of the actual work, but I can always practice at home. And anyway, I need to be in the right mood to play classical music, and after the day I'm having I am not in the right mood.

There's a free period between break and lunch, so I decide to stay in the practice room wallowing in self-pity and a deep loathing for Blackthorn. And it will only get worse, as I have English next.

I make sure I'm late, so that I don't have to walk with all the idiots, and Blackthorn doesn't even look up from the board, just says, "Sit down, Jez. We're adding ten minutes to your detention tonight."

I jump. Dammit, he didn't even see me, how'd he know who it was? I scuttle to my chair, thoroughly disconcerted and actually stay quiet for almost the entire lesson.

Generally, my detentions would last an hour, and they never went very well. Blackthorn would completely ignore me. And, to begin with, it was no different. As soon as the rest of the class have filtered out, he handed me back my essay (which had a red 'D' written on it) and just said, "to begin with, you can re-write this."

"Could be worse," I mutter. "I actually think I made some valid points." I look up at him innocently, but he doesn't respond, just goes up to his desk and starts marking work or whatever it is that teachers do. Probably playing noughts and crosses against himself.

I flick through the book, not actually reading anything, and wondered again exactly why I'd chosen this subject, when I was so bad at it and didn't actually enjoy it. But it wasn't as if I could drop it without incurring my mother's wrath.

I work for about twenty minutes before he stands up again. "That's all the time you'll have for one question in the exam," he says.

"What?" I yelp. "You are _kidding_, right?"

He sighs. "No. And I've been saying the same thing since September."

I look away. Oops. I hand over the lone sheet of paper, which probably had about 300 words on it, no more, and brace myself against the attack.

But he surprises me. "Much better, Jez," he says, and takes it back to the desk.

I blink. "Umm, sir? _What_ exactly was better about that one?"

"You used quotations. That pushes your mark up to a B. You were right; you made some valid points, but if you don't back them up you can't get higher than a D."

I smile. Aha, he finally complimented me.

"But you don't develop the points enough to make it particularly strong, so you aren't getting an A."

Oh. Of course. I glare at him, though he doesn't notice so instead I sigh and watch out the window.

"Like with your point about Crooks being segregated, you can go on to say how it is a microcosm for how black people were treated in 1930s America."

I almost burst out laughing as the gardener starts pulling on some ragwort, but can't get it up. His face starts turning red from the exertion.

Blackthorn comes back to my desk and places the paper in front of me again, just as the gardener manages the rip the ragwort up, and promptly falls on his butt. My laughter is joined by Blackthorn's, and I'm surprised by how much I like the sound. It's as if it _flows_ or something.

Oh, look at me. The most beautiful man in the world – who hates me – has a nice laugh and I mentally swoon. The next laugh I give is in mockery to myself.

He points out exactly what to do to push my mark up to an A, but I don't really listen to his words. Instead, I find myself watching his lips whenever he's not looking at me, and the way the sunset light filtering into the room throws off a rainbow of colours from his messy jet-black hair. It's actually a mixture of blue and black and red tips, not just the basic black it seems to be most of the time. And it looks so _soft_. I have to clench my hands together defiantly to prevent myself from touching it.

"... and here you can pick up on the plosive alliteration..." he trails off and smiles slightly, just one corner of his mouth quirking up. "I'm losing you, aren't I?"

I keep my gaze nonchalant. "It's been a long day," I say, happy when it comes out as if I am bored, rather than suddenly immensely attracted to him as I am.

He pushes back the paper to me. "Well, I've written a few notes. Go home. Have a look at them tonight or tomorrow."

"Thank you," I say carefully. I actually wouldn't put it past him to suddenly say, 'No, I'm just kidding! You're staying here until seven.' Keeping a careful eye on him, I stand up experimentally, and when he doesn't respond other than walking away back to his desk, I shoot out of the door, breathing a sigh of relief. At least now, with a few walls between us I can be sure I won't jump on him or something.

Claire is, understandably, I suppose, very mad about my being more than half-an-hour late. She wastes another five minutes yelling at me. Really, when you looked at us, you wouldn't think that she was actually eight months younger than me.

"I was in _detention_, Claire."

"You were... what?"

"Detention." Her face displays her shock. "Don't tell me you've never been in a detention before," I groan. We couldn't _actually_ be related. I mean, seriously! Detention is like an extra-curricular activity for me! Especially English detentions, actually. I ponder this whilst Claire starts shouting again. "For goodness' sake, Claire," I say as I side-step her and open the car door. "Can we please get home? I've had a _really_ long day."

She splutters angrily at me – apparently too angry to say anything coherent, but stomps round to the other side of the car, slamming the door behind her roughly and jerking the key so violently I'm surprised she doesn't break it in half.

I don't pay attention to her rant as we drive home. I feel strangely light and happy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Replies to reviews: **

**You would never know me anyway: It really starts in chapter 4. Hang on till then :) Thanks for the review.**

**anon: Yep. Jez is in Year 13 (the story starts right after the first half-term of the year). I decided to make her English so I didn't have to waste time researching the American schooling system, though San Francisco will be coming into it later. As for ages, Jez is 17 (she turns 18 later on in the story), Hugh is 20, Pierce is 23 and Val is 25. Raven is 24. Aha, I'm sorry. I'm keeping it to Tuesday, unless work keeps me late coz the horses have escaped or something... Thanks for the review :)**

**I don't own Night World.**

**Chapter 3**

When I wake up late the next morning, I'm not sure whether to be relieved or annoyed that I don't have English on a Wednesday. I am just ever-so-slightly confused about whether I have a crush on Blackthorn, or whether I just have a very potent attraction to his, let's just say it, _amazing_ looks, and therefore, which action I should take.

Claire went back home last night (and I actually said goodbye to her in a very polite manner) and I can't help but be relieved. I actually love walking when it isn't raining, snowing, hailing, or so windy that it's like battling through a snowstorm. I put in my iPod, call a quick goodbye to my parents and start walking.

It takes a good thirty minutes to get to school, and I am running slightly late, so I run the last half-kilometre or so. I don't want to be late for Maths because, to be honest, I'm kind of scared about being in the same room as Mr Randall alone for longer than about two seconds due to a detention. I make it just as registration ends, but the teacher just marks me as in anyway. He gave up weeks ago. I actually feel kind of sorry for the poor bloke sometimes.

As normal, I don't pay attention in Maths and watch the second clock tick away the 75 minutes I have to spend in each lesson. Sadly, I have nothing more to look forward to until Music last period; Chemistry, then Critical Thinking.

Thankfully, it's not another damned experiment in Chemistry, just written work, and due to that the lesson passes quickly. I don't mind written work so much. And in Critical Thinking, all that is needed is to pretend that you're listening. No-one bothers with that lesson. As soon as it comes to last period, I'm happy. Music is what relaxes me, and as well as that I have band practice after school.

So because of that, I am happy enough to work on my classical music project, which is performing a romantic period piece of music by either John Field or Chopin in front of the teacher and some examiners. Although most people protested against anything with the word 'classical' in it, I always enjoyed it. My mother had always played classical music around the house, so I was actually spoilt for choice. I'd settled on an Allegro Moderato by Field.

And it goes well, so I am in an even better mood, to the point that I'm whistling along to my iPod as I walk home from school. I suppose it was actually a good thing that I didn't have English on a Wednesday. Annoyingly, though, I have it tomorrow. My stomach squeezes at the thought, so I ignore that fact. My motto should be 'Bury your head in the sand!' I'm not kidding. It really should.

I call a quick hello to my parents, before shooting upstairs to change. Mum is at the bottom of the stairs when I, as usual, practically fall down. "Be home by six. Okay?"

"What? But, mum–"

"No excuses. I got a letter from the school today."

"Let me guess..." We say 'Mr Blackthorn' in unison, and, despite herself, my mother smirks a bit.

"It says that you were late again. And that is unacceptable. I've half a mind to not let you go to practice tonight." There's no joking in her voice as she says that.

"Mum! No, please. I won't do it again. I promise. We have a gig on Saturday, and they can't practice without me!"

She glares at me before sighing. "Fine. But this is your last chance. If you're late again, no practice for a week. I don't care if you're performing to the Queen! You _cannot_ skip out on your lessons."

"I know. I'm sorry."

She lets me get past, and I'm trembling slightly as I wrestle my bike out of the shed. She's serious, and that scared me. I'd honestly considered just not going at all to my English lessons, seeing as I was so happy without them. Urgh, if only Blackthorn wasn't my English teacher! It would be so much easier if it was say... Mrs Crawford. She's about 180, and a woman. I wouldn't ever be attracted to _her_.

But thankfully, when I'm with my band, it's not difficult to forget everything. We only have two more practices after this one until the gig, so we're practicing until the last minute. Raven and Thistle aren't there this evening, so there are no distractions. Or so I'd thought.

We were packing up, and I was putting my microphone back into its case when Hugh comes over to see me. "Hey," he says, helping me out with the microphone stand.

I smile at him (kind of sarcastically, but whatever). "Hey."

"Did you hear that I've bought a motorbike?"

My mouth drops open and I suddenly feel very intensely jealous of this guy who happens to be like a brother to me. "You're kidding!" I feel a bit disconcerted, but he _is_ two years and four months older than me. There's no reason why he can't own a motorbike before me.

"Picked her up yesterday," he smiles easily and leans against the workbench. The way he caught and held my eyes unnerved me just a little. "You can try her out if you want."

"Insurance?"

"Well then you can ride pillion. It'll be fun." He puts his hand on my arm. Oh man. Was he seriously...? "How about Saturday?"

"We have the gig Saturday," I remind him quickly.

He doesn't lose his smile. "So we do Sunday."

Might as well get it over with. "Uh... Sure." I try, almost in a blind panic, to see a way out of the inevitable change in our relationship that day would encourage. "Maybe we should invite the rest of the band. You know, it can be like a celebration."

He loses the smile. "Yeah. Sure."

I escaped pretty quickly after that, and that night I was plagued by nightmares than consisted of Hugh trying to kiss me, me evading him, and then him being so embarrassed that he quits the band, and then where would we be?

I awake with a deep sense of trepidation, and though it takes me a few seconds to remember everything, I realise that it's half to do with the fact that I have English today, and half that I have band practice tonight.

I'm actually early today, so I take my time getting ready, trying to savour the freedom. I even leave early, which allows me to walk slowly as I usually do, and take in the surroundings.

Not that there's anything particularly special about Ipswich, but there does seem to be a lot of birds.

Chemistry, Music and Maths pass with no particular hassle. I've actually (somehow) stayed on top of the workload, and even have some time at the end of Music to look over the notes Blackthorn wrote about my essay. Even though I bore myself to the absolute _death_ by doing so.

I promise myself that I'll revise for English for all of lunchtime, but that quickly goes out the window. Instead I stay in the practice room and play about with the piano. And, much too quickly, the bell starts ringing for the end of lunchtime.

I actually feel a bit sick at this point. I still have no idea whether I have any real feelings, or whether it's just physical attraction, for Blackthorn, and he certainly doesn't help matters, as his hair is a bit messier than usual, which makes him look even younger. And he's only about 22 anyway. And _again_, my eyes keep shifting to his lips, and I'm almost positive that he notices, as he gives me strange looks sometimes.

Of course, that might be because I'm actually doing the work and not back-chatting to him in an effort to forget that he's even there.

I'm guessing that most likely it is the latter option, because at the end of the lesson he asks me to stay behind for a moment. I shift uncomfortably as the rest of the class file out.

"Are you feeling alright, Jez? You're acting a bit strange," he finally asks when we're alone.

I automatically bristle. "What, because I'm actually paying attention instead of back-chatting all the time? Isn't that what all you teachers _want_?"

He fixes me with an ice-cold look that almost makes me shiver. His eyes are glacial green at this point. "Is there something you particularly _enjoy_ about detention? Because I have no qualms about giving you one right now."

Oh dammit. I should have known _that_ one was going to backfire. "No!" I shout suddenly. He raises his eyebrows. "Not tonight," I say, calmer this time.

His jaw clenches, and I'm worried for a moment that he'll give me one anyway. "Any particular reason?" he says, slightly slower than usual.

"Band practice," I answer, watching his curious behaviour. I can't help but notice that he relaxes slightly at this. I clear my throat. "We have a gig on Saturday, and we only have two practices left."

He gives a slight smirk. "You're in a band?"

"Yes."

"What are you called?"

"Chaos." His smirk becomes more pronounced. "We set up the band before any of us knew how to play instruments well, and that was what we called ourselves then. We just kept it like that. Nostalgia, I suppose." I shrug.

"That's as good a reason as any. Well, go on. Just don't forget to do your homework."

"We had homework?" I say mock-innocently, and I'm surprised – pleasantly so – when he laughs. I can't help but smile at that laugh as I leave.


	4. Chapter 4

**Replies to reviews:**

**anon – (first review) I actually didn't think about **_**why**_** she refuses them... I think it's a mixture of both. She's pretty happy as she is, and doesn't really see the point of dating at that point of her life. (Second review) Aha, be patient! I work until 6 on a Tuesday.**

**I don't own Night World.**

**Chapter 4**

Friday passes with no mishaps, and before I know it, it's turned into Saturday and we're doing sound-check for the gig that night.

And sound-check was the single most stressful thing in the world.

_I_ was absolutely fine. I understood music levels, and so I could help, and Val understands them very well, but Hugh and Pierce...

"Shouldn't I be turned up? I can't hear myself," Pierce says.

I take a deep breath and frown at him. "Pierce, we've gone over this a hundred times. Trust the sound people; _they_ understand levels, _and_ they're sitting where the audience will be sitting."

He glares at me as the sound-check guy shouts at Hugh to turn the volume of his guitar down, because of course he felt like he should turn it up. Sometimes I really wondered about these guys. I exchange a glance with Val, who rolls his eyes whilst juggling his sticks. I laugh at his expression, which was now one of utter concentration. Okay, I wondered about that guy too.

"Okay, Jez. Try out your microphone," the sound-check guy says. I hold up the microphone and start singing one of the songs as he fiddles with the slidey buttons. Hey! I understand _sound_, doesn't mean I understand the equipment!

The sound-check doesn't cause too much hassle, though at one point I am very tempted to shout at Hugh as he turns the volume of his guitar up yet again. Before I have time to catch my breath, we're backstage as the people filter in, waiting to be called. Raven comes to wish us luck (though I really wish I didn't have to see her wish Val luck. I am only 17, after all), as does Thistle at one point, but she's much too distracted by her new phone to sound completely sincere.

As I'm escorting Thistle out back to her mother, something happens, with a suddenness that surprises me so much that I'm very close to falling over in shock and/or shouting something very embarrassing such as 'crab-nuggets!' No kidding, I have actually done that before when I realised Colin Firth was standing right in front of me.

And the reason? Well, Blackthorn is right in front of me. Sadly not as amazing as Colin Firth, but I forget that quite quickly when I see him in _normal_ clothes instead of the shirt and black trousers he's in usually. And he looks quite... well... _good_.

"Mr Blackthorn!" I say in a voice slightly higher than usual. He smirks before answering.

"I saw your gig being advertised, so I decided to come," he explains.

"Oh," I say, and I feel a blush colouring my cheeks. Dammit. I realise that Thistle is looking at me very strangely. "I need to get going. Umm... enjoy the show." Oh my goodness. What a dorkish thing to say... I drag Thistle, whilst still trying to make it look as if I _have to get out of here or I might just jump on him_. Why did he have to come? I was never particularly nervous, but knowing that he was in the audience would _so_ make me mess up.

"Who's he?" Thistle asks, turning to look at him.

"My English teacher."

She gave a low whistle. "Wow. Lucky you. He's _gorgeous_."

"Woah! Thistle, you're _ten_!"

"And I spend most of my time with the band. It's all your fault," she was grinning at this point, and I couldn't help laughing at her.

"Yes, I know. We're a terrible influence, and we've ruined your innocent mind with our crass jokes and sleazy innuendoes."

"What's crass?"

I ruffle her hair. "Don't worry about it. Go on, there's your mother. Be a kid for a couple of years longer, okay?"

"Yeth," she lisps and skips off, earning another laugh from me. I almost sprint back to backstage, sticking to the shadows lest Blackthorn wanted to come find me again. If I was going to be able to function, I had to forget the fact that he was here. And he looked... well... like he did.

"Jez!"

I jump violently. "What? What?"

Val frowns at me. "Damn, girl. What were you thinking about?" I stubbornly fought the blush and he smirks. "I see. But we're on, so get your mind out of the gutter."

"What?"

He slaps my shoulder and winks before spinning me round to get onto the stage, and the gig started.

It surprised me that, at the beginning, my hands were shaking. I was _never_ scared at gigs, but I figured out a trick. If I didn't look at Blackthorn, who was standing to the side (with a very pretty blonde, which made me quite angry) then I could perform normally. Towards the end, I'd forgotten he was even there.

The gig ended as usual (with Val whooping and hollering and the rest of us laughing at him once we'd gotten down from the stage), and as usual, I go alone backstage. The others usually let me.

I remembered the origin of my discomfort and uncharacteristic fear when I see Blackthorn come up. "Well, I definitely didn't expect _that_."

I control my expression before turning to frown at him. "In a good way or a bad way?"

"Good. Definitely good," he says with a laugh. Oh, for goodness sake, _why_ did he have to laugh? I was a bit breathless when I answered.

"What, you expected us to be bad?" I say, feigning hurt.

"I expected you to be a bit under-rehearsed, what with you being particularly lazy."

"Only in English," I tease him with a smile. I'm distracted when the blonde I saw him with earlier comes over and takes hold of his hand. Dammit, they are together.

My thought surprises me. Even if I was attracted to him, what could I possibly do with that? He was my _teacher_.

"Oh, Jez, this is Ella, my girlfriend."

I plaster a smile on my face (which I pray doesn't look _too_ forced). "Nice to meet you," I say. Well, actually, I practically chirp it. Blackthorn shoots me a strange look.

"So you're Jez," she said, with a smile. "You were really fantastic up there tonight."

"Thanks. Wait, what exactly has he been saying about me?" I cross my arms and eye Blackthorn.

Ella laughs. "That you're the most interesting student in his class."

Well, might as well have some fun. When life hands you lemonade, make lemons or whatever-the-crap the saying is. "Are you sure he didn't say the most _amazing_?"

"Close enough, I'd say." She turns to Blackthorn to whisper something in his ear and he nods. She says bye to me quickly and leaves.

"How long have you been with Ella, then?" I say, just a bit too brightly, to Blackthorn.

He seems surprised by my question. But, hey, after teaching me for about two months, he should know that _go by halves_ isn't really in my vocabulary. "About two years," he answered. "How about you with the music?" he steps closer to me and I lean nonchalantly against the wall.

"Oh, right. Because that's like a relationship, right? The only relationship I'll ever have," I say. He seems surprised by this too. "I started classical piano when I was six and modern when I was eleven. Though the 'band' was set up when I was seven."

"Hence a name like 'Chaos'." He steps closer again. He was now less than a metre away, which wasn't helping me figure out what to say next. And my _stupid_ eyes kept on being drawn to his lips. I was sure he would notice, and that would be embarrassing for both of us. He frowns slightly, his emerald eyes suddenly so intense that I couldn't bring myself to look away. "Do you really believe that?"

"What?" He was leaning closer, and I could hardly even remember my name, let alone what I'd just said a few seconds ago.

"That you won't ever have a relationship."

There was absolutely no way I could answer that in my current position. He closed the remaining centimetres and kissed me.

I could have died happy right then. But just as my hand is reaching up to touch his hair, a loud shout resonates from somewhere outside our little bubble, in the real world. He jumps back, his eyes wide.

"Jez!" Val calls again. I look in the direction of where his voice is coming from in time to see his head pop out from behind a door.

"Yeah?" My voice, strangely, is really quite steady.

"What's 675 divided by 4?"

"168.75," I answer automatically. What? I said my IQ was higher than Einstein's. When it came to maths, at least.

"Thanks!" he disappears again. I turn back to Blackthorn, but only see the back of his head as he almost runs out of the door.

Oh no. Did that seriously just happen? Did I _seriously_ just kiss my teacher?

Apparently so.


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own Night World.**

**Chapter 5**

You know that moment when you're half awake, and it's just like you could be lying in bed for the rest of eternity? When you can't remember anything, apart from the dream you just had?

Yeah, well, I love that feeling. Because when I gain consciousness, I remember two things in particular. Number one, that I have a 'date' with Hugh today, two, that I kissed my English teacher yesterday.

Strangely (though I didn't believe it one bit), neither Val nor Pierce could make it, according to Hugh. Which meant I was lucky enough to be alone with him! (Note the sarcasm)

My phone rings, and I groan as I sit up and haphazardly grab it from the bedside table. "What?" I mumble.

"Oh, come on, Jez. It's nine in the morning!"

"Only nine?" I shriek. I swear at Val when he laughs at me.

"Calm down, love," he says, still chuckling. "Just wanted to call to say I've got a guy on the other line who wants us to do a gig in Felixstowe Saturday night. They'll pay us 700 for that."

"Pounds?" I say, still half asleep. Urgh. Nine 'o' clock on a weekend. This was criminal, it really was.

"No, pancakes."

"I like pancakes." He splutters with laughter. "That would mean 175 pancakes each," I mumble, pulling my covers up.

"So you're not awake enough to talk normally, but you can still do Maths in your head? Unless you have a calculator."

"I don't even _own_ a calculator. But, back on track. Gig sounds good."

"Don't you have that date with Hugh today?"

I groan. "Just... don't. I want to _die_."

"Well you just might. I think he got his license from a cereal box."

"What?" I shout, but he's already hung up.

Oh well. If I did die, at least I wouldn't have to deal with the poop-storm that kissing my English teacher would no doubt stir up. I put my phone back down and take a deep breath before forcing myself to my feet and stumbling to the bathroom.

I don't actually pay attention to what I'm putting on or doing with my hair, so I'm annoyed and surprised when I actually turn out looking quite nice. Urgh, it would be just my luck to find out that we are actually meant for each other. That it was our _fate_ to end up getting married. Stupid fate. I hate it.

I was ready about half-an-hour before he was due to come, and as my parents were out, I spent it curled up into a ball and almost whimpering as I tried to figure out what would happen.

It wasn't as if I hadn't _enjoyed_ kissing him. It had been a thoroughly enjoyable experience. But I was ready to bet the £168.75 I got from the gig last night that the aftermath would be a thoroughly _unenjoyable_ experience.

Well, I should probably take my cues from him. He was an adult after all. A gorgeous, remarkably good at kissing, adult.

And whilst I was pondering Morgead Blackthorn's gorgeousness, the door knocked. I groan and almost stagger to the door. _Where_ were parents when you needed them? This was child abuse. It really was.

"You look nice, Jez," he said, once I'd finally opened the door and resigned myself to my fate.

I decide to try the only thing left that would work (apart from pushing him in the path of a herd of trampling rhinos) and smile back, same as I always did. "You too, buddy."

Okay. Maybe I shouldn't have said 'buddy'. I've never said that word before in my life. And now he was looking strangely at me. I force myself to act naturally, instead of hitting my head repeatedly against the wall and saying '_stupid stupid'_ over and over again.

He puts a hand just behind the small of my back, you know, the way guys do when they're sending a message to the world saying 'see this? Belongs to _me_' I hate it when guys do that.

But, in order to make this afternoon move quicker, I walk (okay, more like march) to the gate.

The bike is actually quite nice. It's painted red and blue and is very shiny, which distracts me a little. What? I like things that are shiny.

The day isn't as bad as I'd anticipated. We just go for a ride (which is very enjoyable, though he almost crashes a couple of times), and I successfully turn it into two friends going out just for fun. He takes me to the park and we go on the swings like we used to when we were younger. I'm actually surprised how much fun I have; I consider myself much closer to Val than to Pierce and Hugh. And when he's escorting me back to my front door, I don't mind that he has his arm around my shoulder. I'd kind of given up on shrugging it off about an hour ago, and now I quite like the feeling.

"So," he says when we reach the front door.

I frown slightly. "That's such an awkward w–" I'm cut off as he kisses me suddenly. I jump back and watch him uncertainly. "What was that for?" I splutter.

He seemed surprised by my reaction, and it annoys me that he is. Last night non-inclusive, I tend not to let guys just kiss me. "What do you mean? We're on a date, Jez!"

I kick at the floor in exasperation. "And I spent the entire thing trying to change it to two friends, not a _date_!"

"But–"

"No, Hugh. You don't just _kiss_ a girl without her permission." I open the door and stalk inside, slamming it behind me.

My phone lights up within a minute. It's obviously Hugh, texting to beg for my forgiveness, but I don't even check. Instead I act like a child and shove it into the bottom of my bag.

I'd actually forgotten my dilemma from yesterday when I was out with Hugh, but now the kiss just brought it to the fore-front of my mind. I had school tomorrow, and English was first lesson. I would actually have to face him, and that scared me more than anything.

Okay, half of me _really_ wanted to see him again, but alone. Definitely not in a classroom full of people. Maybe if I got a detention we could talk. After all, our kiss had been cut short. I was kind of curious as to where it would lead. I smiled slightly and walked to the piano.

My parents came back about twenty minutes later and I stopped playing to twist round on the seat.

"How was your date with Hugh?" mum says with a grin.

I pull a face at her. "Horrible. Well, it started off well, but he kissed me."

Mum frowns. "But Jez, it was a date."

Urgh. My parents really are pathetic sometimes. I let my head fall into my hands. "I didn't give him permission, mum. You should be angry!"

"You're plenty talented enough to take care of yourself."

Well that was right. I had taken self-defence classes. Same as every sane girl in the world should. "And what about Monday? It'll be so awkward! Oh, and speaking of, there's another gig on Saturday, and I got £170 for the last one. And you said it wouldn't pay the bills!" I stick out my tongue at her, and she gives me a disparaging look.

**Sorry, anon. Guess you'll have to wait one more week for the English lesson XD**


	6. Chapter 6

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**anon: Umm... I think not. Otherwise she would have probably never been allowed to go to school again.**

**Chapter 6**

I really wished the next morning would never come, but there I was; awake at six, swearing under my breath with my eyes tightly closed.

However the world, sadly, doesn't implode or whatever and I force myself to get up. No harm in spending more time on my appearance so that I actually look _decent_. Might be beneficial. So by seven, I'm dressed in a nice blue blouse (and some jeans so as to not make it look like I spent as much time as I did. I mean, _forty minutes_ getting ready is a bit excessive for me), and my make-up isn't haphazard, but actually quite nice. I even force my hair into submission, so the usually half-straight-half-curly mop is actually in the right place. I finish it off with some topaz-coloured earrings which, I have been told, 'bring out my eyes'. What a load of rubbish.

And because of that little inward-comment, I'm laughing as I open the door, but stop immediately when I see dad standing there, with a very amused look on his face. "Have you been doing drugs or something in there? You're not usually this chipper on a Monday morning."

"_Chipper_? Isn't that like a squirrel's name?"

"Chipmunk's, actually."

"Oh. _Obviously_."

"Yes obviously. Now get out, Jez. I need to get ready for work." He ruffles my hair as I pass.

"Oh, for goodness sake, dad! I just spent about half-an-hour getting it neat!"

"Since when do you care about your _hair_?" he muttered as I shoot to a mirror.

Didn't take too long to fix, thank goodness, although I did glare at myself in the mirror for a minute. "You're pathetic," I say to myself, and I roll my eyes.

My knees are shaking as I walk into the school gates, and I can't help scanning for Blackthorn on the way to my form room. I'm half relieved and half disappointed when I don't see him and collapse gratefully onto my chair, forcing myself to breathe slower.

"Hey."

I yelp (which is _incredibly_ embarrassing) and turn to the direction of the voice. Matt. Oh. I have to squash down what seems like disheartenment when it isn't _him_. "Oh. It's you."

He winks at me, which makes me grimace. "What were you thinking about so intently?" a slow smile spreads across his annoying (albeit rather handsome) face. "Oh. I get it. Well, you might want to get your mind out of the gutter and back to the present."

My mouth falls open. Seriously? What _is_ it with boys in this damn town? He winks again, and chucks me under the chin. And it is not _entirely_ my fault what happens next. It's instinct, really. My fist just acts of its own accord and slams him in the face. See? Not my fault.

Bloody awesome, though.

Obviously, I get about a billion detentions (okay, after school Tuesday and every lunch time this week). I don't even protest, just replay that moment in my head. Hopefully the memory of the pain would mean he would leave me alone.

And in the excitement, I forget that I'm about to have English and that I may-have-accidentally-sort-of kissed the teacher. Or he kissed me. I forget.

I'm not the first in the class, but Blackthorn isn't here yet. I find myself thanking whichever deity that would listen to a deranged sociopath like me that he doesn't have to walk past my desk (slightly childish, I must admit), but my heart almost stops when he walks in through the door.

He doesn't acknowledge me in any way, but talks to the others instead, which I'm kind of hurt about. What, did he think I wouldn't be able to control myself if he talks to me? Granted, I don't trust _myself_, but his lack of trust is kind of insulting.

And I soon learn that he is just completely ignoring me. Normally if I put my hand up to answer a question, he chooses me immediately (it happens so rarely, see) but now his eyes just travel from Amarys, who is on my left, to Julia, who is on my right, as if the seat I am sitting in is unoccupied. No, nonexistent. Even Julia notices, and she's not exactly the type to notice things (akin to all of the girls in this class), and she whispers to me, "Did you insult his family or something? He hasn't acknowledged you once!"

I shrug and glare at the back of his head. This, rather discouragingly, makes Julia laugh.

And so, in a last attempt to talk to him, I make sure I spend a long time putting my things away. When everyone is gone, I start with, "Sir, I–"

But he runs out of the door as if I'm the plague or something. And I have to admit, my stomach squeezes and I suddenly feel tears welling up. Oh, so I'm that bad of a kisser, huh? I feel like retorting to the door. But that would be crazy, so I don't.

Obviously.

I spend the rest of the day half in-and-out of daydreaming what it would have been like if we hadn't been interrupted. Damn Val and his normal, non-mathematic mind. It wasn't _that_ difficult to work out! And I'm not looking forwards to tonight, either. Drama piled upon drama, and now I had to deal with Hugh.

So it is with a deep sense of trepidation that I unlock the door that night, and instead of running upstairs like I usually do, I drag my feet. Mum notices this and comes to ask me what's wrong.

"Hugh," I mumble, and I ignore her sympathetic look. For the first time in years, I don't want to go to band practice.

The ride is cold and damp, a normal English winter bike-ride, and I am in a thoroughly pissed-off mood when I get to Val's.

I suppose it doesn't help that when I open the door, Raven and Val are in the middle of a gigantic argument.

I stay in the doorway for a minute, debating whether to wait outside or just go right in when Raven comes, almost flying out of the room, tears streaming down her face. "Raven?" I say in shock (I sound quite stupid too). She wipes her eyes quickly. "What's wrong?"

She bites her lip. "I think... Val and I may have broken up," she says quietly before walking out of the door.

I shoot out after her. "What? But... if _you_ two break up, what hope have the rest of us got? You're perfect together!" I reach where she's standing and put my hand on her shoulder.

"I just feel like... I'm not important to him. He _always_ puts the band first, and I suppose I understand that. It's great that you guys are getting so popular, but I always feel like I'm second. And I'm sick of that." She turns bright eyes on me. "And don't be silly. You and Hugh are perfect together."

"You... what?"

She smiles. "Hugh told us that the date yesterday went really well."

I splutter something incomprehensible. Along the lines of, "ha... mmph... wha?" before taking a deep breath and saying, "but it didn't! He tried to kiss me; I stepped away because I don't think of him like that!"

"What? But you two _are_ right together, and you've known each other for so long–"

"There's someone else," I say quickly.

"Really? Who? But... oh, poor Hugh."

"I can't say who just yet. Maybe some day, but not now. Anyway, do you want me to talk to Val for you?"

"No. I'll talk to him at some point." She hugs me and walks away to get to her car. "I hope it works out for you, though," she calls over her shoulder.

"Me too," I say to myself once she's driven off.

It strangely isn't too bad. Like me, Hugh has a bad case of stick-head-in-sand-itis, and it actually works for the better. We don't mention the date, and we're back to normal, just joking about and having fun. We sort out most of the songs for the set on Saturday, and even have time to rehearse a couple before I have to get home. And again, I'd forgotten the Blackthorn mess, but as soon as I get home and check what homework I haven't done, I remember. And so I have to get through lessons where the teacher won't even look at me.

And he doesn't. The rest of the week, even the detention I have on Tuesday, he doesn't look at me, and I'm too timid (yes, me timid. Hell really has frozen over) to bring it up myself. And I don't have the confidence to talk normally to him. We now spend our lessons completely ignoring the fact that the other exists. And, thank goodness, rehearsals are completely normal. Well, until Thursday.

It's the last rehearsal before the sound-check catastrophe has to start, and Hugh asks whether he can talk to me alone. I comply, and that is why, at this moment, we are walking around Val's large and surprisingly well-kept garden.

"Listen, Jez, I wanted to apologise to you about last Sunday." I clench my jaw and look away. "I really need to. It wasn't right, and of course I should never have done it." And his grey eyes are so upset that I have to smile reassuringly and touch his arm.

"Don't worry about it. I forgive easily when it's someone I care about." He grins and holds out his arms. I automatically step into them and hug him, feeling all the annoyance and anger melt away. He really is a good guy.

"But..." he steps back slightly to look at me. "I really think we have a chance of making this into something amazing."

I'm a little bit awestruck as I watch him. He's definitely beautiful, that much is obvious. He's an amazing friend, and one of the kindest people you will ever meet. It wasn't as if Blackthorn would ever warm up to me _now_.

"So... please, Jez. Can we just try it out? I don't think I could ever forgive myself if I didn't exhaust all the options. I really want to go out with you."

In every way, he was right for me. Even Raven had said so. I bite my lip and watch him. _Could_ I care about him? Even grow to love him?

And as I watch his eyes, so full of open honesty, I know I could.

So I kiss him. And it's pretty darn amazing.


	7. Chapter 7

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**anon – there are 20 chapters in all. And so the last chapter will be uploaded the 6/11/12.**

**I don't own Night World.**

**Chapter 7**

"Turn the guitar _down_, Hugh," the sound-check guy says, already getting exasperated. I grin at my boyfriend's annoyed expression as he turns the dial about a millimetre. "Seriously, I will just unplug you if you keep on doing that." Which makes him turn it down pretty darn fast.

Sound-check flies past with no real difficulty, and pretty quickly I'm backstage with Hugh. He's holding my hand and tracing patterns on my skin, which makes me feel pretty fluttery. He leans forwards sometimes and just kisses me quickly, which makes me feel more than _pretty_ fluttery, but we have to spring apart when Val comes in. Whenever he walks in on us kissing or holding hands or whatever, he gets this wounded puppy-dog look in his eye, seeing as Raven still hasn't called him or anything.

"Don't worry about me, guys," he reassures us. "According to every great artist, you need heart-break in your life to get anywhere." He sighs and sits down on the floor, his chin on his knees.

He _never_ sits like that.

"Val," I say, coming to sit next to him. "Have you tried calling Raven? Maybe that's what she needs. Then you can show her that you _do_ put her before the band."

His eyes are strangely blank as he looks at me. "She told you that, huh?"

I squeeze his shoulder. "Yeah, she did."

He nods slowly. "I'll call her after the gig."

"Good," I say, smiling at him.

"Jez!" I hear from behind me. I turn in time to catch Thistle, who had just launched herself towards me, and fall back onto Val with a yelp. She sits on my lap and looks the perfect angel, but I can see the mischievous glint in her eyes. "That really hot teacher of yours is here."

"What?" I yelp as Hugh says, "_Hot_?"

"Yeah. I just said hi to him. That blonde isn't with him, though."

I can actually visibly see my hands shaking and hide them behind her back. What was he _doing_ here? Did he think he would just kiss me again and then ignore me for the rest of the week? Was this going to become some sort of sadistic _ritual_?

"He seemed pretty excited for the gig."

"Of course he is!" Pierce says, so suddenly that it makes me jump. "We're _awesome, _us. Completely epic."

That comment makes me laugh, but I stop pretty abruptly when they call us on-stage. Then I actually feel like I'm going to vomit.

I don't actually _see_ him in the crowd, which is definitely better for me, until this particularly slow song when I'm just playing the piano and singing (about love, go figure), and I catch his eye. He's staring intently at me, and though I _should_ be thinking of Hugh at this point, I'm actually singing it directly to him. And with his slightly shell-shocked expression, I think he gets it.

Although Val doesn't whoop or holler this time, which actually makes my heart ache for the poor guy, I still go alone backstage, and I almost feel like I'm waiting for something.

And he comes.

Although I don't see him, I somehow _know_ he's there. And straight after I – for want of a better word – _sense_ him, he speaks. "I'm sorry."

I turn to frown at him. "What?"

He still seems reluctant to meet my eyes. "I'm sorry. For everything. I shouldn't have... kissed you. Or ignored you. It was wrong. Completely wrong."

"Then we'll just forget about it. And don't _ignore_ me anymore, okay? I kind of need your help if I'm going to pass that damn A-level. There's no way I can do it without your help."

He smirks slightly. "That's for sure. And... thank you, Jez. You've been better to me than I deserve."

"Oh, I know," I say with a smile, which lightens the tension considerably.

...nw...nw...nw...

For the first time in what seems like a long time, I don't dread English the next day. In fact, I'm quite looking forward to it, so much so that I'm whistling as I walk around the house. My parents give me very strange looks. "What?" I finally say when they've exchanged glances yet again.

"Why are you in such a good mood? It's not normal. Have you been taking drugs again?"

"Father!" I yelp. "No, I'm not _that_ kind of rock star, and you know that very well."

He slaps me on my shoulder. "Good girl."

I pull a face. "Woof."

I find myself whistling again as I practically skip to English after yet another disastrous registration (and get quite a few strange looks), and sit down, even smiling at Julia, who gives me a strange look also. "Are you feeling alright, Jez?" she asks.

I frown. "Why is it that people find it so strange when I'm in a happy mood?"

"Because this is school. You _hate_ school." She's watching me warily.

"Maybe I've decided to reform."

She nods slowly. "Uh-huh." Suddenly distracted, she smiles. "Oh, good. A film."

Sure enough, there Blackthorn is, with a DVD. Our eyes meet for the barest second and his lips quirk up slightly. I look away, hoping that no-one notices the blush colouring my cheeks. Most of all _him_. Although, if I do have a slight, completely _physical_, crush on him, it is entirely his fault, and he should bear the consequences.

The DVD (Of Mice and Men, obviously) isn't really my kind of thing, but I can still see that it's a good film for its type, and at the end, I don't wait around at the end as I have for the past week, but leave with everyone else.

Well, that was pretty easy, all things considered.

I'm in a good mood for the rest of the day, and am still whistling when I get home, which freaks out my parents even more. Band practice goes perfectly, and of course there's a nice little make-out session with Hugh, until my parents tell me that I have to be home immediately.

Their tone of voice on the phone worries me slightly; a bit nervous and apprehensive, so I bike home as fast as I can. They're sitting in the living room enveloped in a tense atmosphere when I come in. "What? Have the results come in and I'm not actually your daughter?" I say, attempting to lighten the mood.

Dad grins slightly, but mum sighs and eyes me. I shift uncomfortably under her gaze. "No, not that. The results haven't come back yet," dad says, and I splutter with laughter when mum shoots him a disparaging look.

"Actually, we've signed you up for some extra English tutoring."

The smile falls from my face. "You... _what?_"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," dad says.

"You just aren't keeping up with the work, Jez." Even mum sounds apologetic.

"I am! I'm getting Bs in my essays!"

"That was once, Jez."

I narrow my eyes. "Have you been talking to Blackthorn?" My tone is accusatory.

Dad grins as mum answers. "Yes. He recommended tutoring."

"_What?_"

"So he will be tutoring you every Friday after school at his place."

My mouth drops open. "You got him to... _agree_ to that?" I finally gasp out.

"Well, now that I think of it, he did seem a bit apprehensive. Do you two not get on?"

"Umm... no, not really." Wow. I _wonder_ why he was apprehensive. Let us think for a while now, shall we?

"Well, he agreed. So you'll be having English tutoring with him every Friday."

"I thought that was what the weekly detentions were for," I mutter.

Blackthorn is particularly kind to me the next day, which, to be honest, freaks me out just a bit. I stay behind afterwards (almost out of habit – Tuesdays are detention days).

"I suppose you want to ask about the tutoring," he says, with a slight grimace.

"Yes..."

He sighs and looks away. "Your mother is very persuasive–"

"–argumentative..."

"... so I had to agree. I'll give you directions on Thursday or Friday," he continues, ignoring me.

I frown. "Do you really think I need tutoring?"

"Yes," he answers immediately, with a smirk. "I'm sorry."

I give a huff, which only makes him smile wider. "Fine. But it won't be easy."

"Nothing is ever easy with you, Jez," he says, with a slight saddened quality to his voice.


	8. Chapter 8

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**anon – Yep, it is at his house. Although one of my friends who's a youth leader said that they wouldn't actually be allowed in a private place alone, even if the parents agree to it. Ahem... let's just ignore that fact, shall we?**

**I don't own Night World.**

**Chapter 8**

The rest of the week is strangely straightforward. As we don't have a gig for a couple of weeks, we don't bother with rehearsals for that week, though I do still see Hugh every day. English stays calm (though the work is bloody hard) and I'm not too nervous for Friday. Until it actually comes to Friday.

My parents offer to drive me to Blackthorn's house, which I think is uncharacteristically kind for them, though I do accept. It would be just my luck if I was just riding around on my bike struggling to find his house. And just like me. I don't have the _best_ sense of direction.

And I get nervous when I'm waiting for my dad to get up from watching the rugby to drive me there. I'm not completely sure _why_. It hasn't been awkward since last week, and we actually get on better than we did before the whole kiss thing. And similar to the aftermath of the kiss thing, I actually pay attention to what I wear and what I'm doing to my hair and makeup and such. Due to that, I actually look pretty good.

"This is it," I say to dad, spying the golden '89' on the door.

"I'll pick you up in an hour and a half, okay?" he answers.

"Yup," I say, trying to be, as my dad would put it, 'chipper'. He grins at me as I open the door and step out into the driveway.

It's a nice house, as much as I hate to admit it. Tudor style (I've always loved Tudor houses) with a mahogany door and windowpanes with shutters that matched the dark wooden lines. Not the type of house I would have imagined for him at all.

I knock on the door and arrange my expression to be nonchalant and slightly bored, which I think works quite well. He doesn't react when he sees me other than a small, welcome smile. "Hey, Jez. Come on in." I step in and follow him part of the way through the hallway, which is as nice and traditional as the outside. "I hope you brought your..." He pauses as I skid to a stop and gaze into a room which has a door slightly ajar. "Are you alright?" he asks.

I point at the room. "May I?"

"You would go in whether I said you couldn't or not, so... yeah, sure."

I open the door wider and step in.

"Okay, I don't even like books, but this is _impressive_," I say.

All the walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, as well as there being a couple branching out into the middle. And it's not exactly a small room either – a wall must have been knocked down to make one room from two. Every single bookshelf is filled with books, and they're all the _old_ kind as well. The kind you see only in period dramas, with cracked leather covers and golden lettering.

"Yeah... I suppose you could call it an obsession."

"It's like in _Beauty and the Beast_," I say, still in raptures.

"What?"

I turn back to him with a frown. "You know. That scene in _Beauty and the Beast_ when he shows Belle the library." He's still watching me warily. "What?"

"Nothing," he says, turning away.

I spy an open book on a table. "Ooh, what are you reading now, then," I say, going to pick it up and check the cover, but the familiar dialogue renders that action unnecessary. "Oh! Wuthering Heights."

"You didn't even turn it over. How do you know that?"

"It's the only book I've read the entire way through of my own accord. Well, except for all the Dr. Seuss's. And some of those 'Kipper' books we read in Infants."

The sound of his laugh makes me smile again, before I check myself. _What_ is it with his laugh that makes it so infectious?

"What makes Wuthering Heights different, then?"

He's quite close when I turn around to answer, placing the book carefully back on the table. "I suppose that it's not a typical love story. And every character gets what they deserve," I shrug. "It's different."

And it seems, now, like the air has gone still around us, as if we're in a bubble of our own that nobody, _nothing_, can penetrate. I find my eyes flickering down to his lips and try to keep my breathing steady.

But he steps back, looking away from me, his hands clenching into fists. "Have you brought your things for English?" he says in a monotone. I blink, feeling suddenly cold and drop the backpack I'd been carrying on one shoulder to the floor in front of me. "We can stay in here if you want," he says.

"Okay," I say, embarrassing myself when my voice wavers. He doesn't comment on it, just sits at a desk that has three chairs around it, all different styles.

He tells me to write three complete, exam style essays in the time, sets me a few different choices of question, then sits back with Wuthering Heights. I try to concentrate for about ten minutes before loosing it. "Okay, I won't be able to deal with doing this if you're reading my favourite book right in front of me. Can't you read something like... War and Peace? That seems boring." That makes him laugh at me again, and he starts to get up. "Wait," I say, not able to resist. "What part are you up to?"

"Linton's just been taken away by Heathcliff."

I find myself relaxing slightly as he picks up a copy of War and Peace (figures, he actually has one), and actually work quite hard until about ten minutes before my dad is due to pick me up, at which point I sit back and slide the pieces (yes, piece_s_. Three of them) of paper to him. He puts the book down (rather reluctantly, I notice) and picks up the first piece, sighing slightly. Once he's finished reading through it, he drags the chair slightly closer to me.

"You would have gotten a C for this one. You need to develop your points more."

"But..." I start, turning to look at him.

It surprises me how close he is to me; our lips are less than five inches apart. Neither of us speaks, and the air once again is still. His pupils dilate as we remain trapped in this bubble; I wouldn't be surprised if we did remain trapped, unable to move for the rest of eternity.

But somehow, he does move, although instead of backing away, as he had before, it's to move closer, cupping my cheek in his hand. And then, slowly so as to give me time to pull away if I wanted to, he leans closer. But it's so slow that I close the remaining couple of centimetres myself. I feel him smile at my impatience as he kisses me, and my hand drifts up his chest to his hair, which is even softer than it looks.

And somehow, it's even _better_ than the last time, because it's gentle, and we know what to expect. It gradually builds up until I'm pulling him closer, getting even more impatient. And it's when I gain the courage to lightly touch my tongue to his lower lip that he pushes me away, gently, but still persistently. I drop my hands to my lap, still breathing as quickly as he is. He watches me for a second with wide, child-like eyes before looking away with something like disgust. "I'm a monster," he says.

"What?"

"I don't know what it _is_..."

"You can blame me for... what just happened," I say, still trying to calm my breathing.

"Oh, I do," he says, almost harshly, standing up and pacing back and forth.

I feel a lump form in my throat and look down, fiddling with the hem of my shirt.

"Jez..." I don't look up. "What I meant," he says, "was that... it's just who you _are_. The way that you look, what you say. You drive me crazy."

I look up at him, melting slightly at his intense gaze. We stay suspended for a moment, before he kisses me again, almost... _ruthlessly_ this time. The pressure builds again, and this time he lets me touch his lip with my tongue.

But we're interrupted by my phone signalling that I have a text, and he pushes me away again, his eyes quite wild at this point. I almost dive for my bag to get the phone. All the text says is '_Outside'_. My father is a master at succinctness.

Blackthorn somehow reads the expression on my face. "I suppose that's your father," he says, a bit sourly. He puts his head in his hands. "I really am a monster."

"No!" I say. He looks at me as I sit next to him and pull his hands away. "Don't say that. Like you said; you can blame me," I smile, hoping to get a smile out of him.

Even better, he laughs, and this time I don't have to resist, so I kiss him again. Just a quick one, but still one of the most amazing moments of my life. But when we separate, he trembles and closes his eyes. "You probably shouldn't come back. I don't know what I'll do."

"I trust you," I say gently. His eyes open, and I kiss him again quickly before picking my bag up off the floor and leaving. He stays sitting, watching me with eyes wider than usual.

"Good lesson?" my dad asks as I get in the car.

"Yeah," I answer with. "I actually think this might work..."


	9. Chapter 9

**I don't own Night World. Sorry about the late update; decided to have a Pirates of the Caribbean day and couldn't tear myself away from Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom :P**

**And wanna know something interesting? I'm guessing a few of you are Maximum Ride fans, and some must have read Nevermore the day it came out, or at least known the release date was yesterday (6****th**** August). It was released four days earlier in the UK. XD Aha, love being English...**

**Chapter 9**

Have I mentioned before that I hate weekends?

Strange, I know, but the build-up of emotion just isn't worth the break. I pretend that I'm ill and don't see Hugh on Saturday, and Sunday, as I do usually, and protest vehemently when he offers to come round. I then spend the entire time sitting up against my door, so that my parents can't come in, and hugging a cushion for comfort. Right up until Sunday evening, when I come down.

"Are you feeling better?" mum asks as I walk down the stairs. Well, okay, I stomp, but walking's more normal.

"Yeah. I'll be able to go to school tomorrow," I answer, going straight to the kettle to make some tea. Which helps with my nerves, fuelled by the fact that _I'll see Blackthorn tomorrow._

In a classroom, full of kids. Who can never know what happened between us.

And I'm becoming so weird, that I actually _like_ the sound of that. I'm suddenly struck by visions of me and Blackthorn brushing our hands together accidentally-on-purpose, exchanging glances that say everything we need to say to each other, meeting in a secluded corner to talk... or more...

I'm distracted, and yanked impolitely out of my daydreams by the kettle making a loud _ping_.

But no. Of course it won't work like that. He'll have to be completely business-like, not treat me any different to the others. Though every time he _does_ look at me, we'll both be remembering the kisses, the way we both just _knew_ that it was right...

"Can you make me a coffee, Jez?" I hear suddenly from the doorway.

I jump violently and yelp, turning to see dad leaning against the door frame, a rather amused expression on his face. "What were you thinking about?"

"Umm, just performing. On a stage with thousands of people watching." Having aspirations like I do really helps sometimes.

He smiles and says, "Oh, it'll happen, Jez." I smile back at him and make him the coffee.

I hardly sleep at all that night, and give up at around five in the morning, to instead do some revision. For English, of course. I suddenly want to _impress_ him, which is stupid, as he did say that he liked me as I was. Well, his exact words were, _'it's who you are. The way that you look, what you say. You drive me crazy.'_

Not that I _care_ that much. I'd be fine even if he wasn't attracted to me.

But he _was_.

The time goes so slowly, and I instead throw the book aside and lie on the floor, watching the ceiling and just replaying those moments we had together in my head.

The only thing that I wasn't sure about was Hugh. I couldn't very well stay with him when every time I looked at him, I would be wishing he were Blackthorn. But if it didn't work out... how could I know whether it was just a crush, because he was so off-limits? That coupled with his looks could make any girl want him.

I still haven't come up with a definitive plan of action by the time that I have to get up from the surprisingly comfortable floor and make my way downstairs. I spend some time choosing the right clothes (this time a sweatshirt which is actually quite flattering, oddly, and my favourite jeans) and putting my hair up in a loose ponytail, which is already half-falling-out when I have to leave. I drag my feet as I walk down the road, nerves twisting my stomach even more than the Monday after the first time we kissed.

I actually see him when I go in through the gates, but refrain from running up to him, as I am _very_ much tempted to do. He doesn't even look at me, but I suppose he was just being over-cautious. Or maybe he just didn't see me. I'm jiggling my leg nervously all throughout registration, and my knees are shaking slightly when I walk into the English class and sit down in my seat, keeping my head ducked down.

And when he walks in and starts the lesson, I get more and more angry.

He's reverted back into ignoring me. As before, if I put my hand up, he doesn't choose me. He pretends I don't exist again. Even though I spend quite a bit of the lesson just glaring at him. Well, if _he_, the adult, was going to be childish, there was no reason why I shouldn't.

So I rock my chair back, as all the teachers hate, and do everything to the extreme, including even a bit of whistling (which is akin to blasphemy at my school). He doesn't respond in any way, though. And as I'm not one of those idiots who act up in a way that impedes everyone else's learning, I don't take it higher than that. But I can tell it does annoy him, as he starts clenching his jaw and glaring out of the window.

"Did you insult his family again? He was fine with you last week!" Julia whispers to me. I shrug my shoulders.

And, as before, he shoots out of the door before I can talk to him. Everyone has noticed his odd behaviour; they keep on exchanging glances with each other.

I'm distracted for the rest of the day, and before I know it, I'm stumbling into my house, the memory of his lips against mine impeding my balance. I hardly even remember the bike to Val's house – just suddenly find myself before his front door, and fetching the key from the plant pot.

I shoot a quick glance over my shoulder to look at the bike (to make sure it's actually _there_) and let myself in. I twist a strand of hair around my finger as I make my way to the door that leads to the garage.

Only Hugh is there, and I feel kind of awkward as I lean against the wall. "Jez!" he cries, standing up and rushing at me to kiss me. I let him wordlessly. "You're alright, then." His smile morphs into a frown. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Just been busy," I say, looking down.

He puts a hand under my chin and lifts up my face so that I look at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Yes, there is something–"

"No there isn't, Hugh!" I almost shout, stepping away abruptly. "I don't need you _hanging_ on me all the time. I have my own life to lead, you know."

"Jez, calm down..."

"I _am_ calm!"

"It's alright, Jez!"

"Just leave me _alone_. I don't need this right now."

But he steps forward and hugs me instead, ignoring me when I try to push him away. It suddenly all bowls over and I start sobbing into his shirt. Yes, me. Jezebel Redfern, sobbing. _That_ is what the absolute moron Morgead Blackthorn has degraded me into; someone who _sobs_.

And I truly believe, at that point, that Blackthorn never really cared for me. He probably just uses those moves on every girl he can. Maybe he even kidnaps them and murders them. I actually dodged a bullet there.

Anyway, where is he right now? Not helping me, because he doesn't care. No, it's _Hugh_ holding me, letting me cry, doing nothing but stroking my hair to help me calm down. So of course it's Hugh. He's the right one for me, the only one I should need.


	10. Chapter 10

**I don't own Night World. I'll be late updating next week; I'll update either Wednesday or Thursday.**

**Chapter 10**

I'm a lot happier by the end of the practice, and I feel easier the next morning. I'll treat Blackthorn as I did before all this drama, and if he makes another move on me, I'll call the police. It is, after all, illegal.

I don't have English until last period, and as I don't see him for the entire day until then, it builds up, almost like a pressure cooker. Because of this, I am just the tiniest bit hyper, which is sometimes quite embarrassing. And there's no way that I can _force_ myself to calm down. So I am really quite chatty to Julia (she seems rather taken-aback), and I also feel Blackthorn looking at me sometimes. That's probably because of the rather manic laughing, though.

But like before, he shoots out of the door as if the classroom is on fire, and my hyper mood quickly abates, instead leaving me tired and very glad that I have nothing to do tonight. I even call mum to pick me up, which is a very rare occurrence. She seems to realise that I am a bit out-of-sorts and lets me go to my room in peace.

Well, more like in pieces, because as soon as I get there I bury my face in my pillow and scream, hoping that my parents don't hear me.

After a couple of hours of wallowing in self-pity and gazing up at the ceiling whilst hugging a pillow, my phone rings. I pick it up without looking at the caller ID and just say, "What?"

"Wow. Are you alright?"

Oh, Raven. I rub the back of my neck as I sit up. "Hey, Raven. What's up?"

"Umm... well, I... I'm just going to go right into it."

"Okay..." I say warily.

"I know you don't like giving people advice, but I felt like you were the only person I could turn to." She takes a deep breath. "Do you think I made the right decision? I mean, breaking up with Val."

I hug the pillow closer to me and sigh. "I'm going to tell you one thing. You know after a gig, when Val usually hollers and acts like a madman?"

Raven chuckles. "Yes. I know."

"Well, he didn't do that last Saturday."

There's a pause. "He didn't?" she finally answers, her voice coloured with longing.

"No."

I hear a sigh. "Well... I'll still have to think, but... I think you're right. Just give me some time. Anyway, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"You don't usually answer the phone like that."

"Just tired."

"Oh. Okay. Well, I'll go then. And you sleep! You don't have band practice tonight, do you?"

"No."

"Okay. Then sleep. Night night," she says with a laugh.

I answer with, "sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite, but if they do use dynamite, or maybe kryptonite, then ball them up tight, and send them flying into the night." What? It's cute when a six-year-old says it.

She laughs again. "Oh, we were strange kids," she says before hanging up.

I feel a little better after having helped Raven, so I go downstairs to do some piano; which makes me feel even better. I'm almost relaxed as I go to bed as I don't have English on Wednesdays.

And the next day is easy. The Music assessment goes perfectly, and though the examiners are not supposed to reveal anything, I notice they have barely-discernible smiles (although I hope they're not laughing at me), and band practice that night is the easiest in quite a while. We have a gig coming up a week Saturday, so get right back down to business to practice a few songs, and I even write some lyrics to one (it's about Blackthorn, but nobody needs to know that) and I almost forget when I've woken up that I have English on Thursdays. And not to mention the tutoring on Fridays.

_If_ that's still on. But surely he would tell me?

I ask him on Friday. He meets my gaze quickly, then flits away, says 'yes' in a low voice, and slams my book slightly harder than necessary on my desk, which causes me to jump. My dad gives me a lift again, and I'm shifting uncomfortably as I wait for him to answer. He greets me, quite cordially, but won't meet my gaze so I stalk in, pushing him out of the way slightly. "Jez!" he says in shock.

I turn to glare at him as he closes the door. "Oh, I'm sorry," I say sarcastically. "Was that _rude_?"

I don't let him answer, but instead go right into the library and sit at the desk. It takes him a couple of seconds to follow me, and his eyes are wary. "I don't expect you to forgive me..."

"I sure as hell _won't_."

"I had no other choice, Jez!" His eye colour changes to silver, so abruptly that I can't answer. What? It's a bit disorienting when someone's eye colour changes. I'd never seen anything like it before. "Do you have _any_ idea what they would do to me if _anyone_ found out?" I still can't bring myself to answer. He's even more beautiful when he's angry. "Or to you? I know you choose not to have friends, but people don't bully you, do they?"

I don't answer.

"And if they find out, they will. I promise you that."

"And if you ignore me, it brings more attention to us! Treat me like you always have. Don't _ignore_ me. Or at least give me a heads-up."

His eyes are back to green now and he sits down next to me. "I know. I'm messing this up. I don't know what to _do_."

"Join the club."

He watches me for a minute. "Shall we get started?" he finally says, his tone much calmer.

We do. And it's actually quite fun. He gives me back the essays I've written and tells me how to make them better (I don't actually _listen_ to him, but oh well).

"What did I just say, Jez?"

_Dammit_. I suppose it doesn't work unless you're in a classroom. He just stares at me, until I look away and duck my head so that my hair forms a blanket between us.

But he pushes my hair back and takes hold of my chin so that I have to meet his eyes. His hand lingers against my neck longer than necessary. "What _exactly_ do I have to do to make you pay attention to me?" he says softly. I smile slightly as he touches my bottom lip with his thumb.

"I'm paying attention to _you_," I say, surprising myself (and, by his expression, him also) at how flirtatious I sound. "Just not the work."

I had no idea why it always came to this, us only seconds from kissing, even after all the trouble it's caused. I suppose we can't help it, now that we know what it's like. And dad won't pick me up for about a half-hour, so we really will be uninterrupted.

It's strange that I'm thinking that when my phone rings. I grin when he sighs and turn away to pick it up, although I'm not sure how calm my voice will be when, at this precise moment, he is kissing down my neck instead.

"Hello?" I say experimentally. Thankfully, my voice is normal.

"Hey Jez. It's Raven."

"Oh. Hi."

"I just wanted to say that I took your advice and talked to Val."

"Oh?" It's all I trust myself to say without my voice cracking.

"Yeah... and we're back on," she says.

"Really? That's great!"

"Yeah," she sighs, her voice wistful. "So what are you up to?"

Definitely _not_ making out with my English teacher. "I'm having an English lesson."

"Oh! I'm sorry. I'll go now. See you on Monday?"

"Yep."

She hangs up.

"Is that what they call it now?" Blackthorn says.

"Umm... sir..."

"I think you can call me Morgead now. When we're alone, at least..."

I bite my lip as he kisses my shoulder. "Morgead, stop," I say.

He sits up immediately, his eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry. I'm moving too fast, aren't I?"

I can't help but laugh at him. "It's not that. It's just... I don't _want_ to fail this exam."

He sighs. "Well, it's depressing when _you're_ the mature one. I just want to say, 'screw the exam'... But that wouldn't be right. Okay, from now on, exams come first." He takes a deep breath and pushes the essays back to me. "So... what did I say about this one?"

"What?"

"You weren't listening, were you?"

"No."

He shoots me a disparaging look before going over it again.

And it's only when we're half-way through the essay that something hits me. "Wait, what about Ella?"

He pulls a face and looks away. "I broke up with her last Saturday. It wasn't fair to be with her when I was thinking about you all the time."

"Oh. I'm... sorry," I say, feeling kind of awkward as to what I'm supposed to say. He smirks.

"That's a first. You're sorry that I broke up with Ella?"

"Well... I'm sorry I made it necessary."

He grins and leans closer to me, but I hold my ground. "Well, that you did. I completely blame you, Jez." He's so close now, and my eyes are fluttering shut as my breath quickens.

And my phone goes off again.

I laugh at his expression before picking it up and checking. Obviously it's dad, waiting for me.

"Your father," he says, ducking his head and frowning. I squeeze his hand as I put the phone in my pocket and picking up my things. He stays sitting, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll walk you out," he says in a disgruntled tone. "But... we do need to talk. About _us_. Would you be able to come here on Sunday?"

"Sure. I think that'll help. At least."

He does try to steal a kiss just before I open the door, but I duck out of the way before winking at him and leaving (in full view of dad). What? I'm having fun here.

And it isn't until I'm home, still feeling like I'm floating in a happy cloud that the storm comes, and I remember.

"Oh dammit... _Hugh_."


	11. Chapter 11

**I don't own Night World. Updates will go back to every Tuesday next week.**

**Chapter 11**

I'm sitting in the park at about eleven Sunday morning, jiggling my leg nervously as I'm waiting for Hugh. I'd called him and told him that we had to talk.

He automatically tries to kiss me when he arrives, but I turn my head in the last minute so that he brushes my cheek instead, which seems to confuse him a bit. He sits on the bench next to me. "What's wrong, Jez?"

However it went, this was probably going to be one of the worst moments of my life. I take a deep breath and start how probably every break-up went. "You're a great guy, Hugh..." he gives a slight huff. "But... I really don't feel like I'm ready to have a relationship right now. It's just too much on my plate at the moment." _Not_ because I was secretly making out with my English teacher at any given opportunity. Of course not.

He's watching me warily, in a way that kind of freaks me out. "You know, we are meant for each other. You can't hide from that, Jez. _Everyone_ wants to have what we have."

"But I don't feel like we have anything, Hugh. I just want things the way they were before."

"You will come back to me at one point."

"No, I won't. Because you're _not_ what I need, okay? I feel like I have to act a part when I'm with you. There's someone out there for both of us, but we aren't right."

"Yes we are!"

I felt my annoyance mounting. "But that's your lone opinion. There are two people in this relationship, Hugh, and if one doesn't like it, then they shouldn't be forced to go with it. I _don't_ want this." I stop talking as he gets up and stalks off. And now, I felt a lot lighter and better (albeit rather annoyed), completely ready to go see Morgead, and really figure out what is going on.

What's strange is that it isn't strange to call him by his first name. It just feels _natural_. I find myself mulling that over as I make my way slowly to his house. Maybe because _he_ was who I was meant to be with. I couldn't help but smile at that thought as I went into his driveway. He opens the door so quickly that I'm tempted to ask whether he was standing behind it. And just his _smile_ as he sees me proves everything. We _are_ meant together, and we would work past whatever stood in our way. How can something like petty rules stand in between us?

As soon as he closes the door he's kissing me (I let him this time). "I've missed that," he whispers against my lips.

"I thought we were supposed to talk," I say, which makes him sigh and step back, glaring at me.

"And again, you're the mature one. Okay. We'll talk. What time do you need to be back?"

"Before dark. My parents don't really mind."

"They don't want to know where you are all the time?" he asks, going into the library. I follow him.

"What is seriously going to happen in Ipswich? Well, apart from that crazy guy who killed all those prostitutes a few years ago." He gives me a strange look and I look away. "So, talking," I say to distract him.

He smiles and takes hold of my hand. "I don't want to lose you," he says. Taking a deep breath, he continues: "But you have to understand, it's been my dream since I was a child to be a teacher. I don't want to risk that." He touches my cheek. "And it has to be in my first year that I get you."

"What, you would have rather taught me when you were forty or something?"

He smirks and leans closer to me, smiling wider when my breathing speeds up. "_You_ would have been able to resist me if I were forty; you're not doing a good job of it at the moment." He kisses me once quickly and laughs when I try to continue. "No. I said we were going to talk; so we'll talk. I think I'll be the responsible one now."

I let my hands drop. "I won't jeopardize your career. It'll be a complete secret. I'm good with secrets."

He gives a half-smile. "And now that's sorted, we can relax." He kisses me again.

It goes on for a couple of minutes (not _too_ long; what do you take us for, animals?) before I push him back. "Wait... you realise I actually don't know anything about you? And yet you know what my dreams are, what I'm good and bad at–"

"English..."

"Oh, seriously? Come on. Tell me everything."

"_Everything_? That'll take longer than one day..."

"Then start with... when did you know you wanted to be a teacher?"

He looks out of the window. "When I was really young I wanted to be a jockey, but it wasn't as if we could afford the riding lessons. And anyway, I hated school. I wanted to make it more interesting." His eyes are coy as he turns back to me. "And now it's my turn. When did you know you wanted to be a singer?"

"Oh... I can't remember when I didn't want to be one. Before we started the band, I kind of wanted to be one of those Disney princess singers."

He laughs. "Really? Disney princesses?"

"Hey, don't diss Disney. And anyway, they're always amazing singers. My turn now." I bite my lip and watch him for a moment. "Well, just tell me something interesting."

"Give up easily, don't you? How about I can speak six languages fluently?"

_That_ definitely catches my attention. "Seriously? How?"

"My mother was crazy. So she made me have all these lessons."

"What languages?"

"French, Italian, Spanish, Traditional Chinese, Finnish, and of course English."

"That's amazing," I say. I grin at him. "Care to demonstrate?"

And he looks so deeply into my eyes at this point that I think I'm going to melt. After all, he's just so _beautiful_. Have I said that too much yet? His hand reaches up to cup my cheek and I feel my breath coming quicker again. And when he speaks, it's just like music. "_El amor es azul y qual cascada, de insortijadas aguas, vuelca sulinfa en el, abismo oscuro, invade el corazon, refresca el alma."_ His thumb brushes my lower lip. And I'm completely trapped by his eyes. I don't ever want to leave. What would it be like, to always stay with him? I feel like the only way I can be happy is to never leave this place, where we're just together.

"What does it mean?" I murmur.

His eyes unfocussed as he spoke."_Love is blue and which cascades, rings of water, dark abyss, invades my heart, refreshes my soul._" His hand drifts to my neck. "I don't think I ever really understood that poem until I met you."

I can feel my eyes widening. Did he really say that? Was that his way of saying he _loved_ me?

I hoped so.

"You never felt it with Ella?" I whisper. It somehow seems wrong to speak louder, when the world is so calm.

His eyes are intense now. "No. I _thought_ I loved her, but it's not the same."

Neither of us wants to pull away when he finally kisses me again. And we spend the entire day just… _together_. Because it seems like that's all we need to be perfectly happy.

It's way too soon when it starts getting darker, and I say that I have to go. And it makes me the happiest I've ever been to see that he really _doesn't_ want me to go. And I'm in a happy bubble all the way home.

It bursts when I get home, though. I open the door to shouting and screaming. I freeze and try not to listen, until dad comes round, face-to-face with me.

He stops short and stares at me as if he can hardly believe I'm here, before barging past me and going out the door. "Dad?" I call after him.

"Jez!" I hear from behind me, and jump when mum suddenly appears from round the corner.

"What's happened?" I ask. Her eyes are wide, and she's crying. "Is dad alright?"

"Jez, come sit down. I think I should probably tell you something."


	12. Chapter 12

**I don't own Night World.**

**Chapter 12**

I'm still in shock when she's finished, sitting against the bookcase and looking blindly out of the window. Only an hour ago, I was in Morgead's arms. Something that was natural and _right_. And now... everything is different. It's one of those moments when everything shifts perspective, where you find out that you've been acting on a lie.

"But, Jez... it's not just biology that makes a dad."

Yeah. You heard right. It's dad. What shifted and changed; my father is not really my father.

I put my head in my hands and let my hair fall forwards. I should have known, really. Mum said that I'd inherited my flaming red hair from her grandmother, but now I don't believe her. And if I can't trust my own mother, who can I trust? Can I _really_ trust Morgead? It must be so much easier for him to betray me than mum to change my entire world.

"Who, then?"

"What?"

I fix her with a glare. "_Who_? Who's my father?"

She pauses. "That's the thing. I'm not sure."

I can't help the hiss, though it sounds primitive and animalistic. "What?"

"You have to understand, Jez. Your father was away at _war_. And I was lonely. I was away from my family, and we'd just moved so I had no friends..." I get up at this point. "I needed _something_."

I don't even look at her. All I want is to be away from her. She lets me go wordlessly.

I don't think I sleep at all that night. And when mum comes in the next morning and touches my shoulder, I jerk away from her. "You don't have to go to school today if you don't feel like it," is all she says before she leaves.

So I stay at home.

I don't do anything for the entire day except curl myself up into a ball. No-one calls the house, and dad doesn't come by. Left to my own thoughts, with no distractions, I'm almost positive that I will break it off with Morgead. If I can't trust my own parent's love story, how can I trust that Morgead won't hurt me?

When I hear the front door open, I move to sit in front of the door so that mum can't get in. I feel the pressure of the door behind my back, but she doesn't press the matter and leaves after a few seconds. And so I'm left on my own again, just staring outside as the sun drops lower.

I stay against the door, and somehow fall asleep for a couple of hours just before dawn. I still don't let mum in when the morning comes, though I'm starting to feel hungry. She finally leaves for work and I feel myself drift off.

I have one of those dreams that I wish I would never wake up from, because I can't bear to face reality. Just Morgead and I, talking, kissing. And when I wake up, what seems like hours afterwards, I can still feel the ghost of his lips against mine, his fingers against my cheek, hear his laugh echoing in the room. But when it fades away and there's nothing, I just feel empty.

It's about three in the morning, and I feel weak with hunger and thirst, so I stumble downstairs for some water and rip some bread from the loaf, though it makes me feel sick. After that, I stand in the shower until the air in the bathroom is opaque with steam.

Mum is outside the door when I finally get out, and I yelp when I almost run into her. "Jez?" she asks worriedly.

I swallow. "Where's dad?" I croak. I haven't talked in what feels like a lifetime, so it sounds and feels wrong.

She takes a deep breath, which hitches in her throat. "I don't know. I haven't seen him since..." she starts crying right there. "Believe me, Jez. I regret it every day." A lump forms in my throat. So she basically regrets having me. I'm not good enough now I'm not dad's real child. Her eyes widen with chagrin. "No, Jez, I didn't mean it like that. I love you, more than anything."

I run back into my room and sit against the door. She calls my name several times, then gives up.

So now where did I belong? I go to my bag and dig out my phone to see that I have multiple texts from Raven, Hugh, Val and Pierce. Even as I'm scrolling through it vibrates to tell me I've had another text, from Raven, but I don't even look at it, and throw it to the other side of the room. I won't be able to bear Raven's sweet kindness right now, when all I want to do is shout and scream about people and their stupid ways. I'm tempted for a moment to go to Morgead's, but just the memory of dad walking out the door, of him just _forgetting_ me like that is enough to sour me against seeing Morgead ever again. It would be easier if I could just stay here forever.

"Jez?" I hear from the other side of the door.

I consider before snapping, "What?"

"You have to go to school tomorrow," mum says, her voice hard.

I don't answer.

"This is your education, Jez. It's important. More important than what is going on at the moment."

"You think?"

She sounds angrier now. That's good. I deal with anger better. "Yes, I do. You _are_ going to school tomorrow."

"Make me," I say petulantly.

"I will, Jezebel."

She tries to push the door open but I press against it firmly. Although... maybe it would be best to go in tomorrow. I don't have English on a Wednesday, and I felt like I needed to go back into the routine before seeing Morgead again, and having to tell him that I couldn't be with him anymore, as much as I wanted it.

So I was up even earlier than mum and sitting in the kitchen when she came down. She nodded approvingly when she saw me, which very nearly made me go back upstairs in petty rebellion. But she was right, I suppose. I needed to get back to school.

I was actually lucky. I talked to so few people anyway that nobody really missed me, and the one time I saw Morgead I turned and went in the other direction. He couldn't very well chase after me, though I could tell he wanted to. Sometimes, being in a relationship with a teacher has its perks, then. If I ever didn't want to talk to him, I could easily avoid him during school hours.

I didn't go to band practice that night, though. Even though we have a gig a week Saturday. Which may seem childish, but put yourself in my position, and _then_ judge me, okay?

I'm terrified for English the next day. And it's last lesson, so there's all the build-up and the hype in my mind before I see him, and most likely have to talk to him.

I don't see him throughout the day, which I'm not sure is worse or better, and I'm biting my lips to shreds when afternoon registration passes and I have to make my way over to the classroom. I sit in my seat and make myself as small as possible, and thankfully people don't pay attention to me.

Well, except Morgead when he comes in. His eyes widen and he stares at me for a moment, asking where I was with his eyes. I look away as soon as I can, and I can almost feel the hurt coming in waves off him, as if we're _connected_.

No. _Focus_, Jez. He'll just hurt you, remember?

I spend the entire lesson looking down or out of the window, because every time I look at him and our eyes meet, my resolve falters, and I can't afford that.

He asks me to stay behind at the end of the lesson, and I stay still as a rock, very definitely _not_ looking at him. He doesn't say anything for a moment, as if waiting for me to start, before sighing. "What's wrong, Jez?" he asks, his voice suddenly business-like.

The tone surprises me so much I shoot a glance at him, but look away when I can read the hurt in his eyes. That won't help either. "I can't say," I tell him, and I flinch when he stands up suddenly and takes a step towards me, before checking himself.

"Why not?" His voice was edging ever-so-slightly to desperation now.

I close my eyes. "I can't say," I repeat.

His tone goes back to business-like. "If you don't want to do the tutoring anymore, that's fine."

I look back at him and stop breathing at the cold iciness in his eyes, hard and sharp as emeralds. Maybe I _should_ tell him, so that he knows why. If it makes him happier, then that's good, isn't it? "At least one more," I say, hoping that he hears what I mean in my voice.

And he seems to, because his eyes soften. "Okay. But whatever it is, Jez, you're strong enough to handle it. You know that, right?" Now his eyes are like green flames. I don't respond, and he leaves the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I let him confuse me. Now when I go to the tutoring tomorrow, he'll dig himself even deeper into me, I would fall even more in love with him. But I had to stop that, I _couldn't_ rely on him. On anyone.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

It's almost a surreal moment when I force myself to go to band practice the next day.

Hugh doesn't look at me, though Thistle came and she hugs me. If there's anyone who would be there for me all the time, it would be Thistle. If only because she likes trying on my leather jackets. Val is Val. He makes me laugh and comforts me just by being himself. Pierce smiles at me, which is the same as a massive bear hug for other people (whereas for Val a bear hug is like a smile), and I actually sing better than I have in a long time. I have an unbroken night when I go to sleep for the first time since dad left.

Morgead gives me furtive glances quite often in the English lesson the next day. I try not to catch them, but it happens way too often for my taste. Every time our eyes do meet, it's like a lightning bolt going through my body, and all I want is to let him kiss me over and over tonight, to make me feel like _someone_ will still want me and love me, even if I don't trust him enough to let myself love him.

But that wouldn't help. So it is with great control that I walk up his driveway that evening.

He says my name when he opens the door, which is almost enough to break me, but I try not to respond. I think he may have noticed the tremble, though.

He makes it even harder then, holding my shoulders and steering me towards the library, sitting me down on the comfiest chair and holding my hands. "What is it, Jez?" he asks softly.

I fight the tears back stubbornly, and embarrass myself when I take a deep breath and it hitches in my throat. "It's dad," I answer.

He frowns. "Is he alright?" he asks.

"Yes, he's fine."

"Did he find out about us?"

"No."

"Then what is it?" he gently puts a finger under my chin and lifts my head to meet his gaze.

"He left."

His eyes tighten slightly. "I'm sorry," he says, brushing away the tears that I hadn't realised had leaked out.

"It's not just that." He frowns, but doesn't say anything, just lets me gather my thoughts. "It turns out... he's not my biological father. My real father is some random guy I never met in my life."

"Jez..."

All he says is my name, but it's enough to make me almost throw myself at him. He holds me and rocks me as if I were a small child.

"But, the thing is, Morgead..." I say as he's stroking my hair. I force myself to pull back. "It's just that, if I can't trust my own _parents_, who can I trust?" he's silent, watching me with grave eyes. "And I don't see how, if _they_ didn't have a happy ending, _we_ could... have one."

He brushes away some tears again. "I know how you feel, Jez. But I think we'll regret it so much more if we _don't_ fight. You know as well as I do that we need _each other_ to be happy."

"How do you know how I feel?" I ask softly.

He sighs and takes hold of my hand. "I never knew my father myself. My mother didn't know, so how could I? She was the type to have a new boyfriend every week," the disgust in his voice is evident. "And then when I was eight, she decided she'd had enough. Never saw her again. She did leave a note, though. That she was going to some Eastern European country with some guy she'd picked up. I found out a year ago that she died of a drug overdose."

I can't speak for a moment. Really puts things into perspective when someone has a really difficult time. I suddenly feel selfish and pathetic. At least I always had _someone _who cared for me, instead of having to make my own way through the world.

"I'm sorry," I say, squeezing his hand. "You're right. I'm being an idiot."

"What?" he suddenly shouts. I jump. "I never said that! I just wanted to show you that you _could_ trust me, because I would understand. I don't blame you for anything. You acted better than a lot of people do. Better than I did."

"You were _eight_."

He pulls me closer, and I let him. I lean against his chest, feeling his heart beat against my cheek. "What did you do, then?" I ask him.

"I joined a gang."

"_Oh_. Okay. You didn't handle it too well, then," I say, which makes him laugh.

"So are we alright, then?" he asks, kissing the top of my head.

To answer, I kiss him.

...nw...nw...nw...

It's better when I get home. I start realising that I shouldn't punish mum too much about it. Although it was her fault, she _was_ my mother.

So when I see her sitting in the living room, blindly watching the floor, I go in instead of running upstairs as my instincts tell me to.

"Mum?" I say softly.

The relief on her face is evident as she sees me in the doorway. "Jez. Oh, Jez. I'm sorry. I should have come to pick you up."

I sit next to her on the sofa. "No. It's good. I needed to think anyway."

She touches my hand, and when I don't pull away she hugs me. "I'm sorry about everything, Jez. I just thought that he would never find out, and that you would never find out."

I look down at my knees. "Why did you do it?"

She sighs. "Your father was away at war, and he'd been gone for a year. I was never good at making friends, but men were always... interested in me," she sounds disgusted. "I was young and lonely. I thought no harm would come of it. But I don't regret having you. You have to understand... it's a thin line. I regret doing what I did, but I got something so amazing out of it. You're all I could ever want in a child." She strokes my hair, and I feel comforted. Maybe I _could_ trust her. Even if I never saw dad again, we'd still have each other, right? After all, she was the one who'd paid for all the music lessons, and let what I dreamt become reality.

"What about dad?" I whisper.

Her arms tighten around me. "I don't know," she whispers back. And then she's crying.

I don't know how long we stayed there, holding each other and crying, but I was exhausted when I finally went to bed, and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I walked around town and Christchurch Park the next day. It was a nice day, very warm for winter, and I wanted to be alone. Anyway, the squirrels always made me laugh.

And it was when I was walking around the arboretum when I saw him.

He was sitting on a bench alone, and I'd frozen in shock. "Dad?" I'd called out.

He'd seen me then, and his eyes had widened, before he'd gotten up. I'd started walking towards him, but he'd run in the opposite direction.

I was frozen for a couple of minutes, unable to force myself to run after him. Well, that was it. He didn't want to know me anymore.

I don't go home for a long time, and instead go to Val's, but no-one is there. I consider going to Pierce, but he's not really the type to comfort.

Well, there was nothing to it. I had to go see Hugh. _He_ knew me well enough to comfort me.

He is home, and after the shock of seeing me standing there, his face goes a bit smug. "Something you want, Jez?" he says.

I sigh. "I needed someone to talk to. Can I come in?"

He stands aside. "My parents are out," he says as he guides me into the living room with that annoying hand-on-the-lower-back thing. I don't protest, though. "So what's up?" he says once we've sat down.

I squeeze my hands together as I look down. "Dad doesn't want to know me anymore."

Hugh is quiet for a minute. "But... why?"

"He left a few days ago. And I just saw him in the park and he ran away from me."

"Are you sure he just didn't see you?"

"He _ran_, Hugh. When was the last time you saw him run?"

"But he... what happened, Jez?"

I bite my lip. "I don't want to say at the moment. I'll tell you soon, but not right now."

He puts a hand on my shoulder and I lean into it gratefully. "Maybe what you need is a distraction. Shall we go to a club or something? Then you won't even be able to hear yourself think."

I smile at him automatically. "Okay. That sounds like fun."


	14. Chapter 14

**I don't own Night World.**

**Chapter 14**

And it is fun. We go to Liquid, and I easily pass for eighteen. I realise then that Hugh was right. All I need is a distraction from my messed-up life and some time to be a normal teenager.

"Two more beers please!" Hugh calls.

Okay, maybe I've had a couple too many, but it's quite a rush whenever I get a new one, the can all pristine. And anyway, it has a nice taste. Not to mention I'm feeling so relaxed.

"You know what we should try next?" Hugh yells in my ear. Only he because he _needs_ to, though; the music is pretty loud. "Shots!"

I laugh. "Okay, but I have no money whatsoever, so you're paying."

"I've payed for all the rest, haven't I? And anyway, we'll be rolling in it once the band is world-famous. Imagine," he grabs my shoulder with one hand and does a majestic sweep with the other. "Performing at the O2. No seats left empty, fans screaming our names."

I bat him away. "Where have those shots got to? Barkeep!" I shout, lifting up a hand.

The shots are just a _little_ bit more interesting. Every time I take one, it burns down my throat, and makes me feel like I could just fly. Not to mention Hugh is getting that little bit more gorgeous every time. Not that I take that many. Four, maybe five. Or seven.

"Well that's it, Jez!" Hugh slurs. I have a hard time focussing on his face. "I have no more money."

"Oh, well I'll pay for the next one." I grab at my pockets "Oh, that's funny. Can't find any money." I stand up from the stool, but trip over my own feet and land in Hugh's arms.

We stare at each other for a moment, before he kisses me, almost harshly, his hands travelling down my body. I kiss him back blindly, loving how good it feels. "Shall we go back to my place?" he whispers against my lips.

I pull back (well, more like stumble back, but I have to try to keep _some_ dignity). "Oh, I can't," I say, crossing my arms.

He frowns. "Why not? You know we're meant for each other. It's going to happen at some point anyway."

"I'm in love with someone else."

"Jez, this is ridiculous. You are not in love with someone else. _We're_ meant to be together. Why can't you _see_ that?"

"I don't _want_ to, okay?" I scream at him before bolting out of the place. Apparently, I get quite angry when I'm drunk.

I'm not outside for long before I start wondering where I should go. People keep on looking at me strangely, but that's probably because I'm stumbling about everywhere and at one point I walked into a lamppost. I didn't want to go home and disappoint mum. Val probably wasn't in yet, and there was no way I could go back to Hugh's or to anywhere where there might be parents, such as Raven's or Pierce's.

I have no idea where I'm walking until I look up and am face-to-face with the front of Morgead's house. I deliberate for a moment. It's either this or sleeping outside.

So I stumble up to the front door and knock on it continuously, receiving a shock when the door suddenly opens to reveal a very disgruntled-looking Morgead.

A very disgruntled-looking _topless_ Morgead.

"Oh wow," I say, stepping back slightly. His body is... well, I'll just leave it at _wow_.

He frowns at me. "Jez? What are you...?" he trails off as I overbalance and land in a heap on the floor. I swear loudly as I stand up again. "Are you _drunk_?"

"No!" I protest automatically, and stumble backwards as I almost overbalance again. "Okay, maybe a little. Just this much," I lift my hand and hold my thumb and index finger about a centimetre apart. "Hardly _anything_."

"More than that, I'd say," he says as I close one eye and squint at the space between my fingers. "Come in, Jez. I'm calling your mother."

"No!" I shout. I grab at his hand and hold him back. "Please, Morgead. _Don't_. It won't ever happen again, I swear! But mum can't know."

"Jez, I _have_ to," he says as he pulls me in and closes the door.

I put a hand against his chest (might I say, his _bare_ chest) and look him in his eyes as deeply as I can in my current state. "Please," I beg. "Don't tell her."

He glares at me before closing his eyes and turning away. "Okay! Fine, I won't call her."

"Thank you," I whisper. I pull his face down to kiss him. And that feels even better than it had with Hugh; maybe because there were real feelings between us. I can sense that it takes him all of his self-control to push me back.

"I'll make up the spare bed for you," he says, his voice slightly huskier than usual.

I smirk. "What, I'm not sleeping with you?" I say, going up on my tiptoes to kiss him again. Apparently I was way more flirtatious when I was drunk too.

His jaw tightens as I pull away. "Don't tempt me," he says with a slight smile before going upstairs. I follow behind him, struggling with the stairs, so much so that he's just finished with the bed when I make it to the room. "What brought this on, then?"

I bite my lip and look down. "I'd forgotten," I say, giving a short humourless laugh. "Which _was_ the point. It's... dad. I saw him today at the park and he ran away from me."

Morgead takes hold of my hands and pulls me to the bed to sit down. "I'm sorry," he says softly. I lean my head against his shoulder as he puts his arms around me. "But you know that you can't do this again? It's not right."

"I know. But what kind of teenager would I be if I didn't get drunk once?"

That makes him laugh. "You're right about that, I suppose." He kisses the top of my head before pulling away. "You can take a shower before you go to bed if you want," he says, getting up and going to a chest of drawers to pull out a t-shirt and throwing it at me. I don't manage to catch it, obviously, and when I pull it from my head he's smirking at me.

"Oh, so we're throwing things at each other now?" I say, picking up one of the pillows and flinging it towards him, but he catches it easily and throws it back on the bed.

"You're such a child," he says with a smile before turning to leave.

"You don't want to take that shower with me? You know, to save water," I call after him. He shoots me an amused look over his shoulder before going into the room next to mine.

After the shower and changing, I sit in my room for a bit, watching the second hand tick past on the clock, and feeling way too lonely. You know, those moments when you can't bear to be alone anymore, so much so that you feel yourself getting more and more depressed? Yeah, part of the drunkenness, I think.

Well, I wasn't going to put up with that. So I'd made my way silently to Morgead's room and opened the door slightly. I'd whispered his name, and when he hadn't responded slipped in, forcing myself to remain balanced. He hadn't even stirred when I'd slid into the bed next to him and curled up, falling asleep immediately.

I'm the first one to wake the next day, and I don't feel too bad; nothing but a slight headache. I notice that Morgead had put his arm around me sometime during the night, which was a comforting weight. I shift slightly, and he stirs next to me.

The weight of his arm disappears, and he groans. "Did you get me drunk too last night or something?"

I give him a disparaging look. "No. I was lonely. Should have, though."

He gives me a small smile and kisses my shoulder. "Feeling okay?" he murmurs.

"Umm... yeah," I say, slightly distracted as he starts kissing up my neck.

"I'll go make you some tea," he says.

"Milk, no sugar," I say automatically, pulling the cover closer and closing my eyes. There's no movement for a few seconds, and I look at him to see a strange expression on his face. "What?" I mumble.

He smiles and kisses my forehead. "Just imagining what it would be like to wake up to you every day."

I grin. "Pretty awesome for you, must say."

He grins back. "Just what I was thinking." He watches me for a couple more seconds before getting up and going out the door.

"I can give you a lift back home," he says as he comes back with two mugs.

I take a sip of mine before answering. "Only if you drop me off round the corner. Getting out of some guy's car will not warm mum to me right now. Especially if she recognises you."

He grimaces. "Okay."

When we've gotten ready, we go downstairs and into the garage, he goes straight for the car, but I'm frozen into place by the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

An 883 Sportster Hugger. _My_ bike. Okay, not really, but it was the bike I wanted. Morgead comes uncertainly up to me. "Are you feeling alright?" he asks in confusion.

"It's so beautiful," I murmur, stroking its spare body with my fingertips.

"You like bikes?"

"I _love_ them. Dad is... he was going to buy me one for my eighteenth." My voice trails away and I bite my lip. Morgead touches my shoulder.

"We can ride on it if you want."

That cheers me up pretty quickly, so he tosses a helmet at me (my hand-eye co-ordination is exponentially better than last night) and wheels it out. I'm pretty much bouncing with excitement at this point, like an over-exuberant puppy.

And it's amazing when we set off, as if I'm on the back of a cheetah or something. I have a feeling he's going quicker than the speed limit, and that suits me just fine.

All too soon, the ride is over and I'm round the corner from my house. I hand the helmet back to Morgead and take a deep breath. "Thank you, Morgead. For everything." He touches my cheek.

"Anything for you," he says, his eyes intense. I back away, slightly unsteady and make my way to my house.

Time to face the music.


	15. Chapter 15

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**anon: Hey, you're English! (According to time, unless you worked out what it would be in my little corner of the world…) I'm sorry. Forgive me; I've just started sixth form so the workload is quite a bit bigger than it was last year, and I was watching Avengers Assembled. You're lucky I chose this over staring at pictures of Captain America…**

**I don't own Night World.**

**Chapter 15**

"Where have you been?"

Mum's voice is low and dangerous. I close the door slowly before turning to face her. "I–"

"Why didn't you call me, Jez? I give you a lot of freedom, on the condition that you come home before dark!" she interrupts. I duck my head and hope that I look suitably ashamed, though I'm actually thinking about Morgead, and what a good idea it would've been to get him drunk too last night... "Are you listening to me, Jezebel?" I flinch when she uses my full name.

"Yes. Of course I am," I say, meeting her eyes. "I can explain."

"Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?" she shouts, ignoring me. I bite my tongue in an attempt to not shout back at her. She's perfectly allowed to be angry with me, after all.

"Yes mother," I say.

"Then why did you do it?"

"It's one time–"

"One time too many! I always thought that you had enough sense not to get into the rock and roll lifestyle, but apparently you don't! I've half a mind to prevent you from being with that band ever again!"

"What?!"

"You heard me, Jezebel."

"Mum, listen to me, will you?!" She's finally silent. "It was one time. Yes, I did get a bit drunk, but don't you think that's understandable? Especially since I saw dad yesterday and he ran as soon as he saw me! This is the only time something like this will happen. I've learnt my lesson, okay?"

She's watching me uncertainly, still breathing heavily. "You saw your father yesterday?" she says, suddenly much quieter and calmer. I don't answer, but it's still enough. "Oh, Jez. I'm sorry." She pushes her hair back.

"It's pretty messed up at the moment," I say, crossing my arms.

"Where were you last night, then?"

I shrug. "Some bench in the park. I don't remember much. I'm sorry."

She sighs. "Just don't let it happen again. You're grounded. For today."

I would have stayed in my room the entire time anyway, so being grounded didn't change anything for me. I spent most of the time on my guitar, toying with a few chord progressions to try to write a song, but I kept on being distracted by what Morgead had said to me, 'Just imagining what it would be like to wake up to you every morning.' Every time I remembered it, there was a squeezing in my stomach like excitement.

Well, this was it. I'd fallen in love, for the first time. And everyone said that the first time was something really special, that you would never forget it. And in my case, I was positive he was my soulmate, though I'd never believed in those things before. So I wouldn't ever have to remember, because it would always be there. How could petty rules stand in the way of us?

The next morning, I had English first thing, and it was much as I'd expected. Morgead would look at me sometimes, with eyes that would at first glance seem expressionless, but I could see the happiness in them, because I knew him. More than anyone else.

I was floating in a happy bubble for the rest of the day, until I got home and realised that I had to face Hugh at band practice, and there was no way I could skip as we had a gig that Saturday.

And, whether by luck or design, Hugh was alone in the garage when I got him. "Jez!" he cried as I came in, and he ran up. "Haven't you been checking your phone? I've been leaving tonnes of messages on it; I thought you'd died after you ran out of the club."

I accepted his hug, snickering slightly at his panicked expression. "I'm sorry. Haven't checked my phone in a while."

"I was really worried, Jez. And... I'm not sure whether you remember what happened..."

"I remember."

He smiles apologetically. "I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have done that."

"Don't worry about it. I forgave you a long time ago. But we are never doing that again."

He smiles in agreement. Val comes in then, and we go on with the practice, including finishing off the song I'd started writing the day before.

The only difficult thing the next day is music. We've moved on from the short classical music section and now onto World music, which I hate. More than anything. I stay behind in one of the practice rooms throughout break, my free period and lunch to practice the set by myself (I have a couple of piano solos this time), and don't come out until the bell starts ringing for afternoon registration.

It's as chaotic as ever, and when it's finally over I feel the usual, strange mixture of calm and trepidation in going to English. Morgead is already there when I arrive, but so are several other people so there's no way we can talk to each other without arousing suspicion.

Once the lesson starts (I'm not really paying attention that much, just staring at him and thinking, crap, that's my boyfriend as I usually do), I'm distracted by the new books he's handing out as we've finished our Of Mice and Men segment. Our eyes meet for a second as he gives me the book with a small smile, and it's then that I look down to see the cursive lettering on the cover, 'Wuthering Heights'. I knew then that it was his way of saying he loved me, by helping me enjoy English for the first time in seven years. The next time our eyes met I incline my head slightly by way of thanks.

The rest of the week passes almost in a blur, up to the Friday, which I now look forward to more than any other moment of the week. There's a slight blip as mum drives me to Morgead's house, when I remember that it used to be dad that drove me, but it fades into nothing when I finally get into his house and kiss him, which I have been dying to do for the past week.

"Thank you," I murmur as he pulls me to the library.

"For what?" he asks, pushing my hair back behind my shoulder, his other arm still tight around my waist.

"For choosing Wuthering Heights."

He gives a small smile. "It was between that or Pride and Prejudice, and there's more to say about Wuthering Heights."

"I probably won't need any extra lessons for it."

"Well, we're not cancelling Fridays. It's the only time I can talk to you."

"I'm not saying we should cancel the Fridays, it's just that I won't need lessons," I glance up at him through my eyelashes and smile as he kisses me again.

We stay there for the entire time, just talking and kissing, and though I wish the evening would never end I receive a text from mum saying that she's outside.

"I'm coming to the gig tomorrow by the way," he says as I get up from where we were sprawled across the floor. He follows me to the door.

"Meet me backstage afterwards?"

He grins at the comment and kisses me before letting me leave. "Can't wait," he murmurs, almost making me shiver. I shoot him a flirtatious glance over my shoulder and walk (okay, more like saunter) to the car.


	16. Chapter 16

**Replies to reviews:**

**anon – I've given up on SuperStar. Every time I read it I want to tear my eyes out… I have the storyline in my head, but… urgh. Don't make me :(**

**anon – (Is that still you, or a different anon? Or has every anon been a different person… O_o Anyway…) YOU DON'T KNOW WHO CAPTAIN AMERICA IS?! HAVE YOU BEEN LIVING UNDER A ROCK?! He was like the first superhero! He came about during WW2, and was injected with an experimental drug which made him a better version of a human (stronger, more versatile… oh, and beautiful ;D). Google him. He's played by Chris Evans in the film.**

**I don't own Night World.**

**Chapter 16**

Both studying Wuthering Heights and seeing Morgead makes English my favourite lesson. People actually are very surprised (rude) when I get all the questions right, and according to Morgead, am very insightful (which I hope I should be after reading the book about three times a year since I was eleven). It's the last week of school before the Christmas holidays, and it worries me that dad still hasn't called or dropped by or anything. Christmas will not exactly be a joyful occasion if dad isn't there; he's the one who gets most excited. Every time I think of not having Christmas with him I feel like I'm about to cry, which is why I throw myself into the school work and band practices that much harder. Everyone notices, and comments on it at some point. For example, Julia commented with, "Who are you and what have you done with Jez?" which she then admitted was not very inventive when I glared at her disparagingly.

Hugh was getting just that little bit more clingy again, which I figured meant he was going to have a big blow-out and throw loads of corny lines in my face such as 'meant to be' and 'lost without you' (or put them in some random depressing song). Obviously I hadn't been using those phrases when thinking about Morgead and me. Obviously.

I did love Hugh, of course I did, but he was one annoying guy when he went all 'romantic'.

Morgead actually made me dinner on Friday, which I figured meant we were a real couple (albeit rather secret. Okay, totally secret).

"I am feeling guilty about this," he says once we've finished and made our way back to the library, hand-in-hand.

"About pretending to give me remedial English lessons, but actually secretly dating me, though it's illegal and if anyone found out you would most likely be fired and I would be sent away to some far-away catholic boarding school?"

He laughs. "And yet when you say it it sounds so ridiculous."

"You want to know what I've learnt with everything going on at the moment?"

"What?"

"That fate isn't what we expect it to be, and something that seems wrong can actually be what is right when you dig deeper. And anyway, the world could implode at any second, so why not stand up for what you want? It's not always wrong to be selfish, I suppose."

"I still feel like I'm doing something wrong."

"Will it help when I leave school? I only have two more terms left."

"Before you go to university. And how would you feel about introducing me to your parents? As your boyfriend?"

I smirk. "Kind of awkward, to say the least. And do you really think that I could go into uni? I'm going to focus on the band. I can't bear to do any more maths, no matter whether I'm a genius or not."

His eyes are amused as he watches me. "I always thought the teachers were joking when they said you were a mathematical genius."

"Sadly, no. I try not to let it affect my life, though. It's not as if it extends into science."

My phone beeps, and Morgead leans forward to kiss me. "Will you be able to come round Sunday? I don't think I'll be able to bear not seeing you for the entire holidays."

I nod, closing my eyes blissfully as he kisses me again. And it's that precise moment that I really understand the poem he'd told me those weeks earlier.

Most people think that red and love is the same thing, right? That it's passionate and fiery and close to anger, but they're wrong. It's calm and pure and completely natural when you've found the right person. It is, in all effects, blue as a calm sea. Anyone who sees red when they're with the person they 'love' is only communicating with them on a physical level, and that will burn out to leave nothing, but I feel like what Morgead and I share is deeper than that, to the soul; refreshing, not consuming.

And the entire world shifts at that point, as if the gods are showing me truth for that single second. But Morgead pulls away and the second is over. "As much as I would happily hold you hostage, you have to go," he says.

I sigh and get up reluctantly. "I'll see you tomorrow," I say as I walk out the door.

...nw...nw...nw...

Sound check is as stressful as always, but it doesn't get to me so much now. Hugh keeps on trying to catch my eyes, but I avoid him (quite successfully too, considering we're in the same band together), until he corners me when people are starting to filter in.

Val winks at me and grins as I glare at him before walking off with his arm around Raven. Pierce is talking to some girls and seems quite preoccupied, and Thistle is currently nowhere to be found so I have the pleasure of talking to him alone.

To be honest, I'm not sure when it became so complicated. I missed the days when I would just spend the day with him and we would just be friends, or even back when I was six and he'd been eight, and we were 'girlfriend and boyfriend', though it never meant anything more than best friends.

"Do you want to do something tomorrow?" he asks.

I grimace. "Can't. I've got plans."

"What are you doing, then?"

"Just helping out with some stuff."

"Sure you can't get out of it?"

"Yes I'm sure. And anyway, I don't want to."

"Oh."

"Will you just give up?" I finally say. "I'm not interested in you, Hugh. You have to stop this before it tears the band apart. This isn't just our friendship in the equation."

"I just can't believe that you feel nothing for me. After all the time we've known each other..."

"I think of you only as a brother! So please get over me."

He ducks his head slightly. "I won't ever completely give up on you."

"Well maybe you're focussing so hard on what you think you should want, that you keep on missing what is actually right for you," I say. "Just about any girl would do anything to date you. But I'm not the type."

I slip backstage then and collapse into one of the beanbags, burying my face in my hands. "Jez!" I hear from the general direction of the door, and I look up in time to see Thistle throw herself onto my lap.

"Hey, Thistle."

"I heard what you said to Hugh."

My arms tighten around her and I sigh. "Do you hate me, then?"

"No. I think you're absolutely right. Oh, and your hottie teacher's here again. He really likes Chaos, doesn't he?" she says nonchalantly, and just the thought of Morgead lifts my spirits.

The gig passes with no hitches, though I do catch Morgead's eyes quite often, which makes it very difficult for me to not throw myself on top of him or something. What? He is really gorgeous.

I make sure that no-one else comes backstage afterwards, threatening to tie up and torture anyone who does, and thankfully they humour me. Morgead sneaks in at some point and comes up behind me to wrap his arms around my waist. "You were amazing. As always."

"Oh, I know," I reply cheekily, twisting in his arms to kiss him. "And I've realised that quite a lot of people think that."

"How so?" he says. I get slightly distracted as he traces the bare skin exposed at my hip.

"Hugh's been practically begging me to get back together with him."

"The guitarist?" Morgead says lightly, but I can see the tension in his jaw. I touch his cheek with a slight smile. "Not to mention that boy who asked you out a few weeks ago," he added.

"Oh, Matt," I say. "I'd forgotten about him, actually. How did you know?"

"I was intrigued as to why you punched him."

"I will forever treasure that memory," I say wistfully, which makes him laugh. "But anyway, there's no way they're getting between us. I love you too much to throw what we have away."

It's only when he freezes and gazes at me with what looks like revulsion that I realise what I said. I freeze as well and feel my cheeks colour as I stare at him.

"Did you just say you love me?" he finally asks. I try to step back, but he won't let me.

"I was being stupid. Forget it," I say, struggling to get away. "I didn't mean it."

"Well I really hope you did mean it. I love you too, Jezebel." He kisses me then, with such unadulterated happiness that it catches it off-guard and I forget that he dared to use my full name.


	17. Chapter 17

**I don't own Night World.**

**Chapter 17**

We leave separately backstage after some rather... ahem... heavy making out and I'm blissfully happy, just walking around and smiling at everyone that greets me or compliments me for the performance. People who know me well will know that this is rather odd behaviour for me, as I despise getting compliments (rather odd in itself, I admit, but that's just how I am), and when Raven pulls me to the side I think it's just about my odd behaviour. Though her eyes are slightly too wide.

"Jez... what's going on?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask, confused at the intensity of her expression.

"Your teacher?"

I feel myself blanching and my stomach twists painfully. "I don't know what you're talking about," I say primly, trying to escape.

"Val asked me to go get you about another gig, I walk backstage and your teacher is molesting you!"

"Don't!" I cry, putting my hand over her mouth. "Please, Raven. Don't."

"You realise this is illegal?" She's disgusted; I can tell from her expression.

"Do you trust me?"

"I'm really not sure at the moment."

"Please do. It's not just some physical thing. I love him, Raven. And he loves me."

"Physical? You mean you're having sex?"

"No!" I shout. "No, it's not like that. I promise. Even if I asked, he would turn me down. He really cares about me, Raven."

"I don't like this at all."

I stop breathing. This could be it. She was very maternal as it was; it seemed very likely that, in order to protect me, she would tell the authorities. And that would be the end of Morgead's dream. "Please, Raven," I beg, looking deep into her one visible eye. I see her resolve faltering. "You know I wouldn't stick with it if he hurt me, but I really feel like we have a chance." She doesn't answer for a moment, and I keep my eyes locked on hers. Finally, after a lifetime of silent communication, she sighs and relaxes, lifting up her hand to rub her forehead and closing her eyes.

"Okay. I won't tell. But, if he hurts you, you have to tell me right away, and we'll have to turn him in."

"I agree," I say immediately. I trusted Morgead implicitly, so it wasn't as if it was difficult to agree to.

"How long has this been going on for?" she asks.

"A few weeks. You know the gig before you and Val broke up?" She nods. "He kissed me then, but we haven't been like, together together since about two weeks ago."

She sighs and kneads her forehead. "I don't like it, and I don't like him, but I'll go along with it. I won't tell." I hug her in thanks.

I'm awake early the next day to get ready for going to Morgead's (on the pretext of looking for some new clothes with the money from last night). It's been snowing, so it's quite tough going through some of the deeper drifts, especially on Morgead's road as it's so quiet.

"I should have picked you up," he says when he opens the door. "I'm sorry."

I smile in response. "I'm not a child. I'm perfectly capable of battling through a snowstorm alone," I joke. "Actually, it was quite fun. I like snow."

I make sure I press my freezing hands to his face when we kiss, and he jumps and backs away uncertainly. "I feel really guilty now."

"I know a way you can make it up to me," I answer, pulling him back and kissing him again.

He's smiling against my lips as he gently pushes me back against the wall and starts kissing down my neck. My breathing edges up before I remember exactly what I needed to tell him. "Raven knows about us," I say. He pulls away and looks at me with wide eyes.

"What?"

"She knows. She saw us yesterday."

"Oh. And if she has any sense, she hates me now?"

"How old are you?" I ask curiously.

"Twenty-two," he answers, watching me carefully and frowning slightly.

"Well, she's older than you. And she's not happy. But she promised not to tell, and I trust her."

He looks away, his eyes creasing and takes hold of my hand almost as if it were automatic. "How will we tell people? When you're out of school?"

"How about we think about that when we come to it? You might decide that you don't like me anymore at some point anyway."

He turns back to me and touches my cheek. "Don't say that, Jez. I love you, and that isn't going to change. I know it isn't."

I'm quite blissful as he starts kissing me again, and the bliss colours the entire day. I'm still smiling to myself when I make my way home, passing through town to pick up a pair of jeans and a couple of t-shirts so that mum doesn't get too suspicious.

She's in as good a mood as I am, and we end up going out to eat, which we haven't done since I was a child. We end up having one of those amazing, in-depth talks where she really tells me what she's feeling about dad. I'm tempted more than once to come clean about Morgead, but the memory of him saying that being a teacher was his dream held me back. She was my mother, after all. I'd be lucky if she didn't lynch him if she found out.

And if we stayed together, she would have to find out. That thought is the only bad part of the evening, and I forget it pretty quickly.

The next day she asks what I want to do for my birthday (she comes into my room at about eight in the morning, and we have established that I'm not a morning person, right? I think I mumbled something along the lines of 'Just get me a unicorn and I'll be fine'. What? I was dreaming about unicorns, okay?), and that actually gets me thinking. I'll be eighteen in only five days (pretty late planning, I know, but we're not the type to plan months in advance).

I decide to just stay in for my birthday, and mum said she would make some pizza or order some Chinese, which is always good. I go see Morgead twice more on the lead-up to my birthday, and the day before (the 22nd) we watch a film (I'd begged him for quite a while to watch the 2003 live-action version of Peter Pan and he'd finally given in).

"I wish we could go out," I mumble, looking longingly out of the window.

"We can't risk anyone seeing us, Jez," he says levelly.

"I know, but what if we go to Colchester or Felixstowe?"

"We can't, Jez. The majority of the teachers live in Colchester, you know."

"I'm just sick of having to hide it all the time. Raven refuses to talk to me and I can't tell mum..."

"Don't tell me you're tempted to tell your mother, Jez."

"Well maybe I am!" I retort childishly, glaring at him. At this point, we're at either end of the sofa, glaring at each other. "I hate keeping secrets, Morgead."

"You're just going to have to keep this one, Jez. You're not the only one involved in this."

"Will you stop patronising me?" I shout at him. "I'm not an idiot, okay?"

His eyes hardening shows me that I've made him cross the line. "Well, you're doing a pretty good impression of one. Not to mention of a child."

I bite back the childish retort I was about to throw at him and instead stand up. "Then I should probably go home." He looks away angrily, not responding. "Who's being childish now?" I taunt him before stalking out of the door and almost running the entire way home. Such a stupid, unimportant fight, but could lead to our undoing. And there was now way I could avoid him. He was my English teacher!

Well, maybe we should just move on. It was a stupid idea in the first place, of course we weren't going to make it, even if we were 'soulmates'.

I want to laugh at myself. Soulmates. Yeah, right. As if anything so stupid existed. I was just being naïve. Was he running after me to apologise, bouquet of flowers in his hands, not caring that the rain was pouring down? Would he catch me, spin me round and kiss me hard, whispering that he never wanted to let me go?

Not that it was raining. It was actually very mild and sunny for winter. But that was how it was depicted in the movies, right?

The movies are wrong, though. He doesn't chase after me to tell me that he loves me, and that we should run away to Paris to elope. He lets me leave and does nothing.


	18. Chapter 18

**Replies to reviews:**

**anon – Hmm... favourite word is lynch… disturbing… XD**

**I don't own Night World.**

**Chapter 18**

Mum wakes me up the next morning with a cupcake for breakfast, which makes me laugh. She's even decorated it with musical notes and a lit candle.

"Make a wish, Jez," she says.

Might as well. So I close my eyes and wish that dad would call, or come see me, or _anything_. That seems like the most important thing at the moment to me.

We go downstairs, and I can't help but think that she's put so much effort into it to distract me from the fact that dad still hasn't called or anything. I laugh when I see that she's decorated all of the sitting room with balloons and streamers. "I'm _eighteen_, mum, not eight," I say with a smile.

"I know I got a little carried away, but I was having fun, okay?"

The doorbell rings, and I stop breathing for a second. Did the wish _actually_ come true? But when mum implores me with her eyes to open it and I comply, it's just the band, accompanied by Thistle and Raven. Oh, and a massive cake.

"Still in your pyjamas?" Val roars. He gathers me up into a huge hug. "Hey, kid, you're finally eighteen! You're an adult!"

I hug the rest of them and accept the massive cake box Pierce is holding (yes, even Pierce hugs me. I'm still in shock). "I didn't know you were coming."

"I invited them," mum says from behind me. "It's a bit sad to spend your entire birthday with only your mother for company, eh?" her eyes spark with amusement.

As soon as we settle in the living room, the doorbell rings again, and I groan dramatically as I get up again. It's with a surprising suddenness that I open the door and come face-to-face with dad.

I freeze and gape at him, and he smiles wryly. "I wanted to talk to you."

I glance back at the living room door to see mum standing there with her eyes wide. She nods slightly and turns to go back in so I follow dad out up the driveway.

To a motorbike.

I stop walking immediately. "No. You can't just give me that and buy your way back to me."

He turns towards me. "I realise that. Which is why I really came to tell you that I know I've been an idiot and I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I love you, Jez. There's more to being a father than genetics. I know that now. I've missed you so much–"

"And yet you ran away from me."

"I was in shock, Jez. I didn't know what you wanted, and I didn't want to risk hearing you say that you _didn't_ want to know me anymore."

"How could you think that, dad?"

I call him that automatically, and can't respond when I see the pure happiness on his face. "So you still think of me as your dad?" I cross my arms and nod, not looking away from him. I can feel my gaze becoming accusatory. "Then you're wiser than I ever was." He steps forwards and touches my shoulder. I let him. "I love you, Jez. You're my daughter; it has nothing to do with _biology_."

The tears build up behind my eyes and I step forwards to hug him. He hugs me back. "Thanks, dad."

"It's alright, sweetie. I won't ever leave you again. I promise. And the bike's yours, by the way. No kind of bribe, just keeping the promise I made you when you were twelve." I laugh and reach out to touch the smooth spare body. "You're insured and everything."

He helps me wheel it into the garage and I ask him whether he wants to come in afterwards.

"I'm not sure whether your mother would want me to," he answers uncertainly.

"Dad, it's my day. I don't want to spend my eighteenth without you."

He agrees after just a little pushing (he's never been the most determined) and when we go in, mum doesn't say anything bad to him or about him. Well, she doesn't talk at all, but she's always told me that if I didn't have anything nice to say I shouldn't say anything at all. She's being a good role-model, see?

At one point, Raven touches my arm and jerks her head to the side before getting up and slipping out the front door. "Okay," she says as I join her. "I know I've been... well... not exactly supportive, but you understand, right?"

Oh. Right. Morgead. I'd actually completely forgotten about him. I bite my lip and look down. "Yeah, I understand. Not that it matters anyway."

She grabs hold of my shoulders and I look at her. "What? What did he do, Jez? If he hurt you, I swear to God I will–"

"No, he didn't hurt me. We just had a massive argument yesterday. I think it's over."

She's quiet for a moment before she steps forwards and hugs me. I sigh and hug her back. "Listen, on the surface, I think what you did, both of you, was wrong. I condone it completely. However... what I hate more and condone more is you being hurt. So... you should talk to him. You've both been under a lot of stress, I am sure, so maybe emotions were just running a little high."

"Really?"

"Yeah... and I really hate myself right now."

"Well, I love you. Thank you, Raven," I say, a lot happier now.

"I love you too, Jez. Come on, we've got to get back in. You need to open your present." She claps her hands together and grins in excitement. I laugh at her. She's two years older than Morgead, and yet acts like more of a child than I am sometimes. "Would you do the honours please, Jocelyn?" She asks mum as we go back into the living room. Mum looks at least as excited as Raven.

"What?" I ask.

"We stashed the present here. Didn't want to drag it all the way over so early in the morning," Pierce says with a smirk.

Raven sits me down and forcefully keeps me there with some help from Hugh as Thistle bounces with excitement and Val laughs at me. I find myself glaring at them quite a lot.

Mum comes back with a giant wrapped package (which doesn't conceal the shape very well) and wrestles it through the door. I undo the wrapping paper, already knowing that it's a guitar. I undo the hard, pristine black case and gape at the beauty inside.

The others chuckle at my face as I gasp out, "You... really shouldn't ha..." I trail of as I stroke the length of the neck. "Oh, it's beautiful. Thank you." Lying in the velvet was a dark, small body Gibson. I trace along the intricate designs along the frets. "Thank you so much."

"We knew you'd love it, so we all pitched in," Hugh says with a smile.

"Even I did!" Thistle interjected. I grin at her.

"Thank you."

"We even had it inscribed. On the back, so that people don't have to look at it."

I pick it up reverently and turn it over. Inscribed and debossed with gold paint is a quote. "'_Don't aim for success; just do what you love and believe in and it will come naturally.' David Frost._" I smile and trace over it before I try out a G-chord, listening to the beautiful sound emanating from it.

The band, Raven and Thistle leave some time during the afternoon. I go upstairs at one point and put on some classical music as I try to figure out exactly what I should do with Morgead. It's between going to his right now or waiting until after Christmas. I shift uncomfortably.

Well, that's settled. I would have to go now. It would be an excuse to try out my new bike too. I run downstairs and open the living room door...

...interrupting mum and dad kissing. They jump and blush as I raise my eyebrows. "I'm going to try out my bike, but I'll try to be back before it gets too dark. I have my mobile on me in any case," I say before shooting out of there. Probably best to leave them alone.

And it is honestly one of the best moments of my life when I wheel the bike out and mount up. It has a fantastic growling sound as I start gently letting the clutch go, and jumps forward like a young racehorse at the starting gate. I lean forward and let the wind rip my hair back.

The ride is so short that I almost turn and go back home just so that I can come right back again, but when I see the house my breath escapes me in a whoosh and I just stare at it for a moment, suddenly afraid. What if he really _doesn't_ love me any more? What could I do then?

I slide off the bike, not taking my eyes off the front door, and wheel it up the driveway, kicking down the stand to prop it up. My raps on the door ring out firmly, though my hands are shaking, though it takes him several seconds to answer. When he does, though, I can feel my insecurities and worries leaving and it's as if I can see the whole picture now. I can see just how petty and stupid we were both being.

"Jez," he breathes. He pulls me into the house and closes the door. "Thank goodness you came back," he says softly, pulling me into a hug.

I sigh at the familiar feeling of his arms around me. "I'm sorry," I say, reaching up to twist my hands through his hair, which is slightly more scruffy than usual.

"Sorry? What have you got to be sorry about? It's me who's ruining what should be the best time of your life. You _should_ be able to go out with someone who doesn't have to keep you under lock and key to see you."

I laugh at him. "What an easy life I would lead then. But it wouldn't be worth it. _Anything_ is worth going through to have you," I whisper, pulling him down to kiss him.

"You are the most wonderful, amazing, beautiful person, Jez," he says between kisses, drifting to my neck.

"I can't stay."

"I'll kidnap you," he practically growls. I let out a laugh before pushing him away.

"No, I'm serious. I came here on the pretext of trying out my new motorbike," I say, quite smugly.

"You've got a bike?"

"Bribery from dad. He's talking to me again."

"That's great," Morgead says, kissing me again quickly. "Okay," he says, stepping back. "You'd better go before I actually do kidnap you."

I smirk at that. "You'll have to do that at _some_ point–" I start, laughing when he kisses me again roughly. "I love you," I whisper when he lets me go.

"I love you too."


	19. Chapter 19

**I'm sorry… The internet literally exploded on me, and by the time that I remembered it was already Monday. But, if I get over 5 reviews for this chapter I'll update with the LAST (yes, LAST) chapter tomorrow. Savvy?**

**I don't own Night World.**

**Chapter 19**

I'm a lot happier the next couple of days. It seemed like Morgead and I _had_ to have that fight (well, more of a tiff, now I look back at it), just to clear the air. Even though I haven't seen him since, I feel closer to him. It seems like everything is coming together; we have a massive gig coming up on the 29th, mum and dad are as close as ever, and Hugh is acting normally again (though I'm not entirely sure how long that will last). Christmas is honestly the best I've ever had; we'd built it up like it was going to be awful because we thought that dad wouldn't be there, but now that he is, it's perfect.

I see Morgead on the 27th, but not any other days due to family and practicing for gigs. He also won't be able to come for the gig on the 29th, which I am half annoyed and half relieved about (I'm pretty sure I'll miss our little make-out sessions backstage, but I'm always terrified I'll mess up feeling his eyes on me). Any time I'm home, I don't let the Gibson (that I have christened 'Frédérique') out of sight, and I talk about it so fondly that Morgead asked me whether I was still the love of his life. To which I responded, 'I really don't know,' and he started tickling me by way of punishment. To be honest, I rather enjoyed that 'punishment'.

I'm looking forward a lot to the gig, though I kind of blanche when I see how many people have turned up. Thankfully, we're not the only performers, so the spotlight isn't completely trained on us.

Thistle bounds up to me when I'm waiting backstage as usual, though this time she looks quite disheartened. "I can't find your hot teacher," she says despondently.

I snicker. "Is that where you've been all this time? He can't come to this one."

"What? But he's the only reason I come nowadays!"

I gape at her. "_Thistle_."

"Don't tell mum I said that."

"You are ten years old, Thistle!"

"Have you _been_ to my school?!"

"Good point," I concede. Her school is rather... well, the kids are well-educated. Not in what you might expect, though. Kids nowadays...

We get called up, and I start with the piano solo before going into one of our original numbers (about Morgead, go figure). It all goes much better than I expected, and I'm kind of disappointed Morgead didn't get to see.

The gig ends on its usual bang, with Val whooping and hollering and the rest of us laughing as we get down from the stage. But it's slightly different this time. As I go for the door to hide out backstage (to mope because Morgead wouldn't be joining me) a man in a suit comes up to our little group.

"Excuse me, who is the manager for your band?"

Val steps up and raises his hand slightly. Yeah, I know. I _should_ be manager, shouldn't I? But Val thought, just because he's eight years older than me, that _he_ should be manager. Crazy, right? Just because I'm the youngest... and the girl... well, anyway...

The man hands a business card to him. "I really think you lot have a lot of talent, and perhaps you could come to a little meeting to talk about possibly signing the band."

Val accepts it with a rather shell-shocked look on his face. The rest of us exchange glances and the man smiles at us all before leaving.

"Fueled by Ramen," Val chokes out after a couple of minutes of stunned silence.

"What?"

"The card," he shows me the card, which has the distinctive _'Fueled by Ramen'_ logo.

"But..." I trail off and take the card from him, turning it over to see if it's some kind of joke.

"They're American," Pierce interjects, taking the card from me. "They do Fall Out Boy, Panic! At the Disco, Paramore..."

"This is massive," Hugh says, the card now to him.

"Okay... we need to think about this," Pierce says, looking at us each carefully. "If they _do_ want to sign us, what are we going to do, move out to America? Jez, you're still in school. We have families, friends... we'll have to think about this carefully." That was probably the most he'd said since he was ten and he shouted at me for breaking one of his PS1 game discs.

"Okay, here's what we'll do," Val says, stepping forward, his face intent. "I'll go to the meeting and find out what they want, _then_ we'll decide what to do. For the meantime, don't say anything about this to anyone, okay?" He puts his hand in the middle, and we all place our hands on top.

"Okay," I echo.

...nw...nw...nw...

It's harder than I thought it would be, keeping the secret from mum. I'm very tempted, when she makes a slightly snarky comment about the band, to shout it at her, '_Yeah, well we might be signed by Fueled by Ramen!'_ But I control myself, and content myself with smiling placidly.

It's also difficult to keep it from Morgead. We have a really lovely day the day before we have to go back to school when we just talk about our childhood (kind of cheesy, I know, but I really understood him afterwards), and that added to the really nice make-out session, _and_ the bike ride meant I was in a pretty awesome mood.

"What is _with_ you recently?" dad says, clutching onto a mug of coffee like a lifeline as I skip about making my lunch the next morning.

"What do you mean?"

"You're always so _happy_. It's unnatural."

"Maybe she's in love," mum says with a smile as she comes into the kitchen.

I snicker and shoot them both a disparaging look. "Yes. You busted me, oh dear."

"Sarcasm. Obviously to cover up the fact that you're daydreaming about someone..."

"Dad! Enough already!"

He smirks and ruffles my hair. I don't even bother trying to fix it. "Okay, I'm off," he says, kissing me on the top of my head as I turn to run upstairs. There's always _something_ that I forget.

First lesson, English, and I sit down, quite happily sliding _Wuthering Heights_ out from my bag and flipping through it contentedly. But when the classroom becomes populated and a voice says, "Okay, sit down and get your books out," it doesn't belong to Morgead. My head shoots up to see a short, round-faced bald man with a wide smile.

"Where's... Mr. Blackthorn, sir?" I ask, so shocked that I almost say his first name.

"I'm not sure. We supplies don't get told _why_ the teachers are off, we just get called in."

The lesson starts, and it's definitely not a bad lesson. The short, round-faced bald man with a wide smile is very kind and funny, and everyone enjoys the work, but I'm too distracted by the fact that Morgead's not here to concentrate on anything.

And I can't go round his tonight, because Val organised an emergency band meeting before practice as he had the meeting with Fueled by Ramen yesterday. I feel quite nervous just thinking about that.

The day goes way too slowly, and it feels like an eon afterwards that Critical Thinking finally drags itself to the finishing line and I can sprint to my bike. I go directly to Val's.

The first thing he says when we're all there is, "They want us."

No-one responds apart from shooting glances at each other.

"They want to sign us. I told them we would talk about it..."

"What is there to talk about?" Hugh interrupts. "This is what we've wanted for _years_. Everything has built up to it!"

"They want us to move to San Francisco."

"What?!" I yelp. "San Francisco?"

"That's why I said we would talk about it."

"We have to go," Hugh says stubbornly.

"But we have our entire _lives_ here. Would Jez really be able to drop school? Would we all be happy to abandon our parents? And what about Raven, Val?" Pierce counters with.

"I... think she would understand," Val says uncertainly. "And we can come back a lot; they just want us in San Francisco most of the time. At least six months in a year."

"But there'll be tours, recording, interviews... that could easily take us up to eight or nine, right?" I say.

Val grimaces. "Yeah. That's the difficulty."

We're all quiet for a minute, until Pierce asks, "When do they want an answer by?"

"28th January."

"Okay," Pierce puts his head in his hands. "I say we skip the rehearsal tonight, and go home to talk to whoever we need to talk to."

That does seem like the best course of action, so we all leave. I'm going quite a bit over the speed limit on the way home, so it takes less than five minutes. I wheel the bike quickly into the garage before going inside. "Mum? Dad?" I call out. They emerge from the living room.

"You're early. Is everything alright?" mum asks. I take a deep breath and start telling them everything.

They seem to be in a state of shock once I've finished, and I let it sink in wordlessly.

"So you need to move to San Francisco to be able to be signed?" dad finally says. I nod and he exchanges a glance with mum. "I don't know, Jez. You're still so young. Moving from the east of England to the west of America... it really is a big step." He looks at me carefully. "Do you want this?"

I bite my lip as I think. This is the chance we've been waiting for, and Fueled by Ramen is a massive label. Was I actually ready to move to the other side of the world for this? "Yes," I hear myself say. I'm slightly surprised; I didn't consciously tell myself to say that, but it feels right." Yes," I repeat, with more conviction. "I really do. It's a massive opportunity, and I think I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't at least try it out."

"Then okay," dad says. Mum does a sharp intake of breath and looks down.

"And I don't even have to be over there all the time. You know you can trust Val, Pierce and Hugh, right? They'll take care of me. They always have."

"And you can still get work from school over there, right? We can pay for the exams; you've only got two terms left."

"Oh! School!" I gasp. I couldn't believe it; in all this time, I hadn't thought about Morgead once. I would have to leave him.

Mum smiles in spite of herself. "Since when do you care about school? Come on, we should go out to celebrate."

I consider saying no and instead making my way to Morgead's, but there was really no point. I would see him tomorrow at school; I could tell him then.

So I spend one of my last nights in England with my family, and I don't regret it. I know now that mum and dad have completely solved their differences, and that is what truly decides for me. If mum was still alone, I probably would have turned down the offer, but knowing that she would have dad comforts me. And there are things like Skype, phones, video-calling, they could come over during the summer holidays when dad wasn't working, and mum could easily take the novels she was working on with her. This could work.

So I call Val when I get home, and tell him that I'm in. I learn that Pierce and Hugh have agreed, and even Raven is okay with Val moving to San Francisco because she's planning on coming out after her studies are over, which comforts me.

And when I hang up, I hug a pillow for comfort and think about exactly what I'm doing.


	20. Chapter 20

**I don't own Night World.**

**Chapter 20**

I get kind of worried the next day when Morgead still isn't in. It isn't the short, round-faced bald man with a wide smile this time, but a harsh-faced stern-looking man who doesn't smile once the entire lesson. "Do you know where Mr. Blackthorn is?" I ask the man.

He looks surprised that I talked to him (I mean, the insolence! _Talking_. To a teacher!) and replies primly that he doesn't. I pull a face behind his back.

"I thought you hated Mr. Blackthorn," Julia says to me curiously.

"He's better to look at than these guys," I mutter back.

"I'm with you on _that_."

"Stop talking, both of you!"

I must admit, I did yelp a bit at the suddenness of the comment. What? Harsh-faced stern-looking man who does not smile kinda freaks me out.

"Do you want a detention?"

Classic mark of a teacher, asking stupid questions. I spluttered with half-hysterical laughter (half-fuelled by fear at the fact that _Morgead still wasn't here and I needed to tell him about San Francisco_).

"Well apparently you do. Detention tonight. What's your name?"

"No! Not tonight," I say quickly. I was meant to go to Morgead's tonight! I couldn't exactly postpone what I needed to say to him, and I needed to find out what was going on with _him_.

"Your _name_."

I sigh and sink lower into my chair, shooting an annoyed look to Julia (she seems pretty amused. Bitch). "Jez," I mumble, crossing my arms. At least if I did everything online now, I wouldn't get any detentions. Although I was kind of looking forward to having another detention with Morgead...

"Do you think this is _funny_?" harsh-faced stern-looking man who is definitely _not_ smiling hisses. I control my expression and look up at him innocently.

"Of course not, sir," I say meekly. He huffs and notes down my name.

"You just begged to be out of detention," Julia says, sounding like she's in a state of shock.

"It worked a couple of times with Blackthorn," I say back. "He knew I would just be in detention anyway the next week, so he would let me off sometimes. Like frequent flyer miles, really," I mused.

I spend most of the detention rubbing my forehead and hitting my head against the wall (if I were bald, there would be a very obvious bruise) and then sprint outside as soon as he says I can go.

And then pull up with a shocked gasp when I come upon Hugh and Claire against the school gates, making out rather heavily.

"Ahem," I say, raising an eyebrow.

They break apart, looking rather flustered. When I put my hands on my hips they step away from each other.

"It's not what it looks like," Claire says automatically.

"That would be odd," I say. "Are you two getting together?"

"I was just waiting for you and Hugh passed and we started talking and he told me–"

"Woah, slow down a bit."

"–that you got signed," she finishes. "Which is amazing!"

"Thanks," I say, throwing an accusatory glance towards Hugh. "Did he also tell you that we have to move to San Francisco?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Well, I just wanted to congratulate you. From mum, dad and Ricky too."

"And you waited?" I said with a smile.

She smiles back slightly. "Yeah... I remembered that Tuesday is your detention day."

I smirk at that and start walking away. "Well, I should probably get going. I have some things to do." I almost start sprinting again, shooting a glance back to see that they're going at it again. That makes me roll my eyes but smile happily. Everything is finally coming together...

...just as it's about to fall apart. I reach my bike at a run and literally take a flying leap at it (okay, not literally, but you know what I mean) and zoom out of the car park then turn left to go to Morgead's. I _had_ to see him.

I get just a _little_ bit frustrated when the stand thingy won't come down to hold the bike up, and I guess Morgead must have heard the conversation (argument) I was having with it. "Jez!" he says.

I finally get the damn thing to stand and turn to him. "Where the hell have you _been_?" I say (okay, shout. But I had just been shouting at the bike, and it just came out that way).

He shoots a nervous look down the street. "Come in," he says. He closes the door behind me, and with a suddenness that alarms me, grabs my arms and pulls me to him, holding me close. I bury my face into his neck comforting myself with his warmth, the feel of him next to me... tears well up in my eyes, but I fight them back.

"What happened?" I ask as he pulls away, brushes my cheek and leads me to the library.

"I was questioned a couple of days ago."

"What?"

"They think I'm shagging one of the students," he says harshly.

I'm in a slight state of shock (half because of the fact that he's been questioned, and half because he just said 'shagging'. What kind of teacher says 'shagging', for goodness' sake?)

"But... what? Why?"

He pauses. "I don't know. They don't have any proof, but they still wanted to keep me away for a bit. I should be back next week, though."

"But if they don't have any proof..."

"They had... an anonymous tip." he gives a short, humourless laugh and puts his face in his hands.

I lean my head against his shoulder. "But they have no real proof. It'll blow over. I promise."

"How can you be sure? This is my entire life, Jez."

"Did they mention anything about me?"

He meets my gaze for a moment, then drops his head again. "Yeah. They think it's you."

Maybe now is the right time to tell him. Then he'll know that it'll be safer. He won't need to worry about anyone finding out about us. "Well you don't need to worry about that. Listen; Chaos got signed."

He gives a purely happy smile, which I feel a bit left behind about (talk about quick change of emotion). "Really? That's amazing. I knew you could do it."

"The band has to move to San Francisco."

He gazes at me, seeming to not completely understand. "San Francisco?" he finally says uncertainly.

"It's an American label. And... we accepted. We're moving to San Francisco."

I see him stop breathing. "When?"

"1st February."

"Right."

"But this... is good." Tears spring up in my eyes. "We won't jeopardise each other's dreams. We'll be more focussed. This is the 21st Century; we can't give up on what we've worked for our entire lives just to be with each other..." I trail away, barely noticing the hot tears tracing down my face. We watch each other for a minute, before Morgead wipes the tears away with his thumb.

"You're right," he says softly. "You're completely right." He pulls me back, and I lock my arms tight around his neck. "I love you, Jez. I don't know what I did to be so lucky to be with you."

I can't resist at that point, and kiss him hard, pulling him closer and closer, learning the feel of his lips against mine, the silkiness of his hair against my hands. We stay like that a long time, the _last_ time.

"I don't know whether I'm strong enough to deal without you," Morgead whispers to me afterwards.

"Well, if you're still interested in five years, come to San Francisco, okay?" I whisper back. He kisses me again gently.

"You'll always be the only one for me, Jez."

But that night, when I'm lying in bed, clutching a pillow and trying to ignore the tears streaming down my face, I know that it won't work out. He'll move on and forget me, maybe I'll move on, but I wouldn't forget him. But I don't have that distinction of being his first love, it would be _easy_ for him.

What I'm sure about, though, is that I will never see him again.

_**Fin**_

**Aha, well there you go. 8 days of writing and twenty weeks of updating (okay, twenty-one) and it's done. A couple of people have asked me about a sequel, and the answer is; I don't know. I've planned a short prequel (no more than 6 chapters) which I want to finish by the end of this half term (I hope. But I have half my exams in January, and I am completely failing Chemistry. Revision revision…).**

**I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did :) Coz I loved writing it.**


	21. SNEAK PEEK

**I don't own Night World. Here is a preview of the first chapter of the sequel to Love is Blue. (Thank Taylor Swift. Her new album gave me a load of inspiration. I mean, Treacherous. I listened to that and thought, 'Oh my goodness, that is Love is Blue.' :O Well, to me, at least.) I decided to put this bit up just so that my lovely readers know that I haven't forgotten about them. It's split into 7 parts and an epilogue (I'm about 1000 words into the 7****th**** part atm), and each part is 1-4 chapters long. There is some Morgy POV thrown into it, too. ;) Anyway, feedback. If you spot anything wrong with this chapter, tell me and I'll sort it out.**

**Painting in Red**

**Part 1 – Treacherous (Jez)**

_Living is like tearing through a museum. Not until later do you really start absorbing what you saw, thinking about it, looking it up in a book, and remembering - because you can't take it in all at once. ~Audrey Hepburn_

**Chapter 1**

I had a bad feeling from the moment I woke up.

It was little things, like the fact that I'd fallen out of bed. The kettle had refused to boil and the teabag I threw into the water had a rip in it. And I was out of sugar.

That was the straw that broke the camel's back (a very weak back) and after some very impressively inventive swearing I threw the mug at the wall and spun round to come face-to-face with a very rumpled-looking, scared Pierce.

"Oh. Hi," I said. "We're out of sugar."

"And out a mug. What did it do to you?"

"I'm just stressed."

"Yeah. I gathered. You haven't been this stressed since we left England."

I kept my expression carefully blasé. I'd tried to think about England the bare minimum in the four months since we'd left.

_Tried_ being the operative word. Every now and then, a memory would hit me, pierce me through like a cannonball and leave me raw and gasping at the intensity. Who knew the capability of human memory? I couldn't remember anything as vividly as I could remember him. Though I tried and tried to forget.

_Forget forget forget forget._

"Are you alright, Jez?"

I smiled at him. "Yeah. I'm fine."

That phrase sticks in my head a lot. _I'm fine._ It's true, for the most part. Living with one of my best friends (there's nothing romantic – thank God – between me and Pierce) means that I've never a cause to be lonely. My parents have promised to come sometime soon, and we talk for about two hours every day. The band is really taking off, and our gigs are usually sold out within a day or two. The songs for our upcoming CD are coming on really well, and we've recorded about four songs. Our first single, 'Fly', is coming out two weeks today.

Of course, I miss England, with its rain and clouds and the green and yellow patchwork-quilt of fields in the Suffolk countryside, the grey waters of Felixstowe, reaching out to the east to meet the morning sun, and even the sprawled, scattered buildings of my old school.

And of course, I miss Morgead.

I flinch, as always, when his name slips, like a thief, into my consciousness, stealing my mind and dragging me forcibly away from the really quite… beautiful present. I love every moment of my life, but that doesn't mean it couldn't be better.

But that's being selfish, isn't it? I'm lucky. I shouldn't demand more when I've already been given so much. It's only when I'm alone in the flat that I curl up on the sofa and allow myself to linger over his green eyes, sparking with laughter and love when he looked at me, his ruffled hair falling over his forehead, and the feel of his strong hands on mine.

It's brilliant fodder for song writing.


End file.
